Recuérdame
by EJM513
Summary: What if it was not Miguel who went to the Land of the Dead? What if, as a young woman, it was Coco who went to the Land of the Dead? What would this mean for the Rivera family when she learns the truth about her missing father? Full summery inside.
1. THOUGH I HAVE TO SAY GOODBYE PT 1

**AN: I'M BAAAAACCCK! THIS STORY WAS ON HIATUS FOR A FEW MONTHS WHILE I WORED ON THIS LITTLE THING CALLED GRADUATING COLLEG-WHICH I DID! I WAS IN A SLUMP FOR THE FIRST TWO WEEKS BACK BECAUSE I CRASHED HARD CORE, BUT NOW I'M GETTING BACK INTO THINGS. I AM WORKING ON THE NEXT CHAPTER, BUT I ALSO WANTED TO RUN THE FIRST THORUGH CHAPTERS THROUGH GRAMMERLY (WHICH I KNOW SUCKS BUT IT HELPED… MOSTLY) BECAUSE THE TYPOS WERE… AWFUL AND I'M SORRY FOR THAT. SO HERE IS THE REVISED/ UPDATED VERSION OF CHAPTER ONE-AND THEN CHAPTER TWO!**

 **DISCLIAMER-I DO NOT OWN COCO OR ANYTHING RELATED TO THIS FANTASTIC MOVIE.**

~Recuérdame~  
A Coco fanfiction  
By EJM513

~CHAPTER ONE~  
THOUGH I HAVE TO SAY GOODBYE  
Pt. One

1921

Hector Rivera stood quietly in the stone archway as he watched his wife-his angel of fire Imelda pace incessantly throughout the small kitchen. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight up due, exposing her high cheekbones and large, dark eyes. At that moment those eyes were narrow in thought and hard in anger. Her hand seemed glued to her chin as she passed, keeping those furry filled eyes turned on the floor and her black boots. Hector did not dare utter a word. He stood as still as a statue as she watched his wife, silently praying her temper would cool. Even his breathing was silent. The only sound that could be heard throughout their small home as the constant clanking of Imelda's voice and her low voice as she muttered to herself.

Hector leaned into the cold stone and crossed his arms over his chest, biting his lip and silently counting the seconds in his head. Without realizing it his fingers began to drum a simple rhythm on his sleeve-whether it was simply to keep track of each passing moment his wife continued to pace he would never know. Before he had a chance to realize what he was doing Imelda suddenly stopped in her tracks. She spun on his heels and stared at him, her gaze turning hard and red at the sight of him tapping his arm.

"HECTOR RIVERA TU CABRON ESTOPIDO!" She screeched. Hector let out a loud yelp as he jumped, his skin crawling with fear. His breath came quickly and deafeningly-as if he had the air startled out of him. He placed his hand on his chest and looked out his shoulder towards a nearby door.

"Idiota! Are you going to" Imelda began, her voice thundering in the small kitchen. Hector dashed to his wife and covered her mouth, his eyes wide with desperation.

"Sush…. you'll wake up Coco mi amor." He whispered, praying that simple reminder would bring Imelda back to Earth. He watched with weary eyes as those brown orbs he fell so hard for began to soften in defeat. He sighed in relief as he watched her tense muscles relax. She raised her small hands and swapped his own hands away from her mouth, letting out a hiss once she was free.

"Don't you dare call me mi amor-cabron!" She sneered, turning away and marching to the table.

"Will you please stop calling me that?" Hector pleased, his face turning sour with frustration. The first time he had called him that was warranted-maybe even a little humorous. By the thirtieth time the word had slipped from her lip, it had lost whatever power it held in the first place. He held that aggravation expression as Imelda snapped her head towards him, her expression hard with furry.

At that moment Hector did not see his wife; he saw a haughty princess. Her posture was impeccable, her dress perfectly smooth and her arms elegantly crossed.

But oh… he loved every little bit of his princess-even if she was being rather impossible at that moment.

Hector mimicked her and crossed his arms over his chest, quietly walking over the table. He sat across from her and for a long, infuriating moment nothing was said. They simply burrowed their hard eyes into each other, waiting for the other to finally break. The longer the stared the thicker the air became, threatening to engulf them both. It was only when Hector began to feel his lip twitch that he knew it was a lost a battle. He let out a loud huff of hair and sank into his chair.

"Imelda… mi Corazon I don't want to fight like this, and deep down I know you don't either. Will you please talk to me, por favor?" Imelda glared at him, unwilling to accept that her idiota of a husband was right. Deep down she knew that screeching at him was not going to solve the issue at hand, would not allow her soul to be at peace.

Especially if her cabron was going to leave, he should not leave with his last memory of her be of a uncrossed her arms and let them fall on the table in a most un-ladylike fashion. She held her hands together and stared at them, her hard expression turning even more lost by the second. Her dark eyes closed and she sucked in a deep, cool breath of air.

"I'm sorry Hector… I know how important this is to you, but I don't want you to leave." She stated, her voice eerily cold and calm. Though she refused to look at him, she could just barely see Hector nod in understanding as he leaned forward, resting his gangly arms on the table.

"Yo se mi amor, pero"

"No pero! You promised you would stop this nonsense with that awful man!" Imelda spat, her dejected turning furious once more as she mentioned her husband's partner, Ernesto de la Cruz.

"Ay dios mios! Imelda, how many times do I have to tell you Ernesto is not a bad man?"

Hector asked, his voice full of exhaustion. How long had he been forced to listen to how horrible he oldest and closest friend was? It broke his heart to see his wife so full of rage at the mention of Ernesto… and it was something he would never entirely understand. At that moment all he could do was watch her roll her eyes in aggravation and clench her fist together, burrowing her nails into her soft skin.

"Amor don't you see he is using you? He doesn't care for you-all he cares about is your music." Imelda claimed, her voice full of desperation-desperation for him to understand what everyone else saw but him.  
Hector staid silent, his body perfectly still as he let his wife's angry words settle in his head. Those words sent all kinds of thoughts swirling in his head; first that she was wrong, and that Ernesto would never use him in such a disgusting manner. He was too decent of a person.

However, there was that one glaring little voice taunting him.

What if she's right?

Hector shook those thoughts out of his head and ran his hand through his mop of black hair. He would have fallen back into his thoughts and doubts, had it not been for the sound of quiet sniffling pulling him back to reality. He looked across the table with incredulity, thinking it must be all in his head. To his shock, it wasn't. There was Imelda, crumbling into herself as tears trickled down her beautiful face. The sight took Hector's breath away; his Imelda was many things, but she was not one to cry.

His instincts were swift and powerful. Hector immediately stood from his chair and went to his wife. He knelt before her and took her hands in his, kissing them both and placing them on his cheek.

"Oh, mi corizon." He breathed, leaning his face into her hand.

"I'm just worried about you Hector. I know the gigs and tours Ernesto has you do helps with money and allows you to do what you love, but it's not worth it. You are such a wonderful person mi amor, it pains me to see you used like this. It's not worth it mi Corazon." She whispered, moving her hand away from his face to stroke his soft hair. Hector held tightly to her free hand and rubbed it with his thumb.

"If it keeps a roof over my wife and child's head and keeps food in their stomachs it's worth it." Imelda's tears fell harder at those words. She shook her head and murmured,

"No. Leaving your family, that you claim to care so much about, to chase fame and few dollars with a man like de la Cruz is not worth it." She hissed, her eyes wide wild with incredulity and pain. Her head dropped, and her gaze stayed firmly on her purple dress. The look on her face was enough to break Hector, to make tears spill down his own long face. He did not break through. He reached up and took the hand on top of his head back, and held both of Imelda's hands tight. Though she refused to look aware but her lap, Hector somehow managed to look into her dejected, chocolate orbs.

"First of all, Ernesto cares about fame. I just want to become a better musician, that's all I want. But that's not what matters. I know how hard it is when I am gone for you and Coco. It's so hard to me to-but I promise I will come back." He stated, his voice soft and clear. He kissed every one of Imelda's thin fingers, then allowing them to brush against his face once more.

"I love mi musica, but you and Coco are everything to me. Please don't ever forget that." He pleaded, looking up at his wife with imploring eyes.  
Imelda let his words play in his head repeatedly, letting his gentle voice fill her thoughts. She desperately wanted to be angry with him, desperately wanted to plead with him to stay. There a was voice, screaming deep inside to make him stay-she had to keep him home where he what she could he do? It was clear he had his mind made up, and that the moment there was no other way to properly take care of their little girl. Though every fiber of her being was screaming to fight-Imelda did the exact opposite. She slid on the cold floor and into Hector's arms. She let him pull her close to him, and she held him just as close in return. She sighed as Hector placed little kisses all over face and neck, murmuring sweet nothings in between each sweet kiss. Imelda simply sighed, relishing in the shower of love from her husband. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and kissed it, whispering one final plea;

"Just come home and never leave again." She could feel Hector nod in agreement-but only allowed herself to truly relax when he kissed her temple.  
"Si mi Corazon. I will always come home."

If telling Imelda, he was leaving was a challenge, having to tell his little girl was pure torture. That entire night Hector found no peace. He tossed and turned, his thoughts racing a million miles a minute. He had no inkling how his little Coco would act. When she was a tiny baby he had been away performing far too frequently, but she was far too little remember those days. She was now three years old-an age where she would begin to remember and notice her Papa was gone.  
The idea of leaving Imelda was hard enough… how could he leave his beautiful girl?

Hector sighed, staring at the ceiling, resigned that sleep would not come to him. He could see the beginnings of daylight beginning to pour in through the window. Little specks of golden light danced around the ceiling, tormenting Hector with each passing second. Daylight meant he had one more day with his family before he was dragged across the country. Daylight meant he needed to find the right words to tell his daughter he was going to be leaving.

Hector closed his eyes, unable to watch the room slowly grow lighter as the sun crept into the sky. He rolled on to his side and buried his face into Imelda's hair. She always wore it down when she slept, and God as his witness, she never looked more beautiful. A small smile slithered onto his face as he inhaled Imelda's sent. Hector inched close to her and sighed, praying Ernesto would have a change of heart and he could stay like this forever.

If only…

Suddenly Hector heard the door creak open, causing his eyes to shoot open. He could feel his heart begin to warm as the sound of little feet dashing across the floor filled the room.

"Well now's a better time than ever… I guess…" Hector thought as he sat up, ready to get up and snatch his daughter. Before he had a chance to swing his long legs over the bed, Coco lunged herself on the bed, letting out a loud "PAPA!" as she threw her arms around him.

Hector let out a hiss and turned his head over his shoulder. He held his breath as she watched his sleeping wife for any sign that she had been woken up. A low moan escaped her lips, and she tightened her grip on her pillow. Relief flooded through Hector when after a moment she staid perfectly still, her breathing even and slow.

Hector sighed and stood, holding Coco close to his chest.

"Mija you need to be quiet si? Mama needs her sleep-and so do little girls." He whispered, kissing the top of her head. Coco buried her face in the crook of his neck, her little face wet with tears. Her small body violently trembled, and her breathing was fast and heavy. Once again Hector's instincts took over. He held Coco tighter and rubbed little circles on her back. He peppered her head with sweet kisses, resting his head against hers. Her cries continued as they reached her little room, and her quaking refused to cease. Hector could feel his heart breaking into tiny pieces. If there anything the world he hated more than anything else- it was the sound of his little hija in pain.

"Oh mi hermosa Coco, ¿Cuál es el problema?" Hector whispered, sitting down on her little bed. He adjusted Coco's little body, almost cradling her like a little baby. She looked up at up with wide, tear-filled eyes, her lips quivering. It was all too much for Hector. He readjusted her so she was close to him, and slowly rocked back and forth.

"It's okay mija… Papa is here. Papa is here." Hector repeated as if it was his daily prayers. His voice began to crack the longer he repeated that phrase-it didn't seem to help. Nothing seemed to help.

There was only one thing that could calm her.

Hector took in a deep breath and felt his lips curl into a tiny smile as he felt the familiar tune and lyrics tickle his lips.

" _Remember me._

 _Though I have to say goodbye_

 _Remember me._

 _Don't let it make you cry._

 _For even though I'm far away I hold you in my heart._

 _I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart_."

He paused, listening to her sobs being to die down. His smile grew bigger as her cries turned into little sniffles and her shaking began to cease. He kissed the top of her head and continued his song;

" _Remember me._

 _Though I have to travel far._

 _Remember me_

 _Each time you hear a sad guitar._

 _Know that I'm with you the only way I can be._

 _Remember Me_."

As he held the last, soft note Hector's smile turned into a beam. Coco had ceased to tremble and sniffle altogether. Instead, she was peering up at him with puffy, scarlet eyes and an exhausted smile. He smiled down at her, his heart growing warmer and warmer by the moment. He peppered kisses all over her pretty face, all about bursting with adoration as he heard her giggle.

"Now, tell Papa what's going on." Coco's small smile disappeared, her face clouded with fear. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and began to speak.

"Bad dream Papa… I had bad dream."

"¡Ay no! A bad dream?!" Hector gasped, widening his eyes in horror. He knew if Imelda could see him, he would never hear the end of how overdramatic he was being. However, for whatever reason, it seemed to work. Coco nodded and tried to bury herself closer to her Papa, seemingly unaware of the fact she couldn't physically get any closer than she already was.

"Si Papa… bad dream." She repeated, staring up at him with her wide, weary eyes.

"Do you want to tell Papa about it?" Hector asked, smoothing her thick dark hair. Coco stayed silent, her demeanor suddenly turned solemn. Hector watched with great amusement as her little nose scrunched up, and her eyebrows furrowed together. It seemed every little gear was turning in her head, desperately trying to remember lord only knows what. She crossed her arms and let out a huff. Her serious expression began to melt into one of sadness, far too much sadness for such a little girl.

"Papa left… Papa left and no come home." She whispered, fiddling with her little hands. Hector felt his heart stop and climb into his throat. For a moment all he could do was sit silently and watch Coco fiddle with her hands, his heart slowly breaking into a million pieces. Was it possible she heard he and Imelda arguing? Had his absence when she was a baby had a far greater impact on her than he realized? No matter what the case was, Hector knew it was his fault his Coco was in such a state. Guilt settled heavily on his shoulders as Coco's lips began to tremble-the first sign a new round of tears was approaching.

"Scary Papa! It was scary." Coco cried, fresh tears pouring down her round face. Hector could feel his own eyes begin to sting, feel his own chest burn and his lips began to quiver. He quickly kissed Coco's head, hoping to hide his own tears.

"Yo se mi amor yo se, pero solo fue un sueño. You Will always have your Papa, no matter what happens." Hector said, rubbing her back and swaying side to side. Coco sniffled and gazed up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. Hector could have sown he felt his heart completely break at the sight.

"Oh mija…" He cooed, wiping away a few of her tears.

"Papa stay will Coco always?" Hector sighed in defeat. He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes. The mechanics inside his head began to churn, not only trying to find to right words to say but to justify his actions. The longer he held her, the more he heard her cries the larger his doubts grew.  
How could he leave this? How could he leave his home, his hermonsa chicas? How could Ernesto ask him to do such a thing?

Hector kissed her cheeks and willed a large smile on his face. He pressed his head against her forehead and said,

"Si mi amor. I will always stay with you." He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, watching in delight as a tired smile crept on Coco's face. She suddenly went up to her knees and giggled, reaching out for Hector's face. Her petite hands were soft and warm on his cheeks. The familiar feeling made Hector's heart glow. He leaned into her gentle touch and held on to one of her little wrists, gazing in awe at the little miracle before him.

"Te amo Papa." She claimed her cheerful demeanor back in full force. Hector's eyes soften and beamed at his Coco.

"Te amo tambien mija." He replied, kissing her cheeks in between each word. Coco giggled in delight, gentle patting his cheeks. For lord knows how long, the two Rivera's were lost in their own world. Coco held on to her Papa's face and babbled about all the fun they were going to have-how she was going to learn to play guitar and write songs just like Papa. Hector glowed and listened to each word as if it was gospel-and for him it might as well as be. If his Coco wanted to learn to play the guitar and write music like her Papa, she was going to play guitar and write music.

"Do you think I'll be good like you?" She asked, her eyes bright with hope.

"Do you I think you'll be good?" Hector said, his lips turning into a smirk. Coco's eyes widen as he leaned forward. Hector let out a deep chuckle, placed his hands on her sides and gently placed her on the bed. He began tickling her stomach and kissing her cheeks.

"You will be amazing mija-the best in the world!" Coco roared with laughter the entire time. She pretended to squirm away whenever Hector pecked her cheeks or nose. Hector knew she relished in the love, and he was more than happy to give it to her.

"PAPA PAPA STOP!" Coco cried, gasping for air. Hector laughed and kissed her cheek one last time. He pulled her off the little bed and held her close. He closed his eyes and let out a content sigh, relishing in the warmth of her little body.

In that quiet moment, with the warm morning sun pouring into the room Hector's mind was suddenly clear. If Ernesto wanted to take him away from his family, he'd have to drag him kicking and screaming. He swore to God he would be with daughter and wife through every step of their lives until death tore them apart.

"My my, what are mis amores up to?" An all too familiar voice snickered. Hector turned his head towards the sound of the voice, where Imelda stood with a warm smile on her face. Coco's glowed at the sight of her Mama. She leaped off Hector's lap and dashed her room, holding her arms wide open as she ran. Imelda beamed as she knelt to scoop her daughter off the floor and into her arms. She kissed her cheeks and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

'Were you playing with Papa?"

"¡Si!"

"Was Papa being silly?"

"¡Si! I had bad dream that Papa left and no comeback, but Papa said he stays will Mama and Coco forever!" Coco explained, bouncing in her arms with felt his throat cease and his breath stopped at the sound of Coco's innocent words. Imelda looked over Coco's head with narrow eyes and lips pursed in a hard line. Her eyes burrowed deep into Hector, causing his blood to run ice cold. He swallowed hard and forced his lips into a small, lopsided smile. Imelda bit her lip, rolled her eyes and then smiled once more as she looked at Coco.

"Mija why don't you pick out a dress while Papa and I go talk for a few minutes, okay?" Coco gasped with delight, throwing her hands to her cheek and gazing at her mother in awe.

"Really?! I get to pick dress like a big girl?" She asked, unable to contain her elation. Imelda's smile became strained, immediately regretting her words. Hector threw his hand over his mouth, stuffing his rolling laugh back in his stomach. His efforts were in vain. Imelda could see his eyes twinkling, could see Hector bending over and holding his stomach with his free arm. She shot him a deadly glare and hissed. As usual, Hector seemed utterly oblivious to her irritation, too consumed by his effort not to laugh. The very sight of him made Imelda's blood boil, and without realizing her grip tightened around Coco and her nails began to dig into her soft skin.

"OWW! Mama!" Coco yipped, desperately wriggling her away out of her mother's iron grip. Imelda snapped out of her frustration, glanced at her daughter and loosened her hold. Her sweet smile returned as she stroked Coco's hair and kissed her cheek.

"Lo siento mijita. Si you can pick out your own dress, like a big girl."

"AAAAAYYYYI!" Coco screeched, clapping her little hands together and bouncing in her mother's arms. Imelda chuckled, leaning her head back at the sound of her daughter's sudden grito. She placed Coco on the floor and watched as she toddled towards her dresses. Her heart swelled as she listened to Coco chant "Big girl! Coco is a big girl!" over and over again. Though she tried to avoid even a glance at her husband, it was almost impossible not to see him out of the corner of her eye. It was impossible not to see that warm smile or the love radiating from his eyes as he watched their Coco.

The sight was all too much for Imelda. It filled her with so much love to see how much Hector adored Coco. As quickly as she was filled with love, she began consumed with anguish and furry.

He was leaving-he was leaving and he lied to Coco about it.

"You, ve a la coina ahora!" Imelda hissed, causing Hector to jump. He held his head as high as he could, avoiding his wife's aggravated expression. She threw her hands on her hips and followed him, her heart hammering the whole way.

"Imelda, mir amor" Hector said, his voice soft and slow. She stormed towards him, ripped off her shoe and smacked him across his face.

"OWWWW! Imelda!" Hector hissed, holding his stinging cheek. Imelda threw her shoe to the ground and stood as tall as she good, forcing him to look into her furry filled eyes.

"You are not only leaving us for lord knows how long-knowing full well how much it hurts me  
and especially how much it hurts our daughter."

"Si lo se mi amor pero" Hector began, holding his hands up to show mercy. It was not enough for Imelda though, nowhere near enough.

"Then you have to audacity to lie to your daughter's face after she comes crying to you because she had a nightmare about her Papa leaving and never coming back and say you'll never leave her!" Imelda hissed, her blood boiling hotter and hotter with each passing second.

"Imelda I-" Hector stopped, his body running cold with terror as Imelda bent down to pick up her shoe again.

"I woke up not long after she came into the room-I heard that song you wrote for her and I saw you two just staring at each other. I thought, 'Wow, I am lucky. He may have his flaws but he loves that little girl so much I'm lucky I married someone like him' I almost forgot that you're leaving! It was just like a normal morning. And then you…"

"Imelda ple-"

"HUSH! You listen to me! I thought you were better than that Hector. You promised me you would tell Coco when she woke up and what did you do?! ¡Mentiste!"

"Imelda if you-" Hector spoke, his words slow and tinged with frustration.

"Do you have any idea how upset he is when you leave? I know you didn't think she would understand you were gone because she was a baby, but she knew and was always so sad and… and now you" Imelda spoke, her anger becoming so great her words were becoming mumbled. She tightened her grip on the shoe in her hand, raising it to deal Hector another blow to the face as she continued to ramble furiously

"Imelda I'm not leaving!" Hector exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air and letting them fall once more. Imelda froze, staring at him with wild eyes. The grip on her shoe loosened until it fell to the floor with a thud. She staid frozen, gawking at Hector as his words played through her head like a broken record.  
He wasn't leaving… he wasn't leaving.

"You… you what?" She breathed, lowering her arm and standing straight. Hector slowly inched towards Imelda, as if he was approaching a wild animal. His lips curled into a small smile. Imelda felt her breath leave her at the sight of that carefree, loving smile. Her heart began to pound for an entirely different reason, making her face flush a light red.

"You hear me amor, I'm not leaving." He repeated, taking dainty hands in his. He stared into her beautiful dark pools, his smiling growing larger as his words began to settle and comprehension set in. Her mouth dropped, and she let out a gasp. She tightened her hands around his, gazing into his warm eyes.

"But, what about becoming a better musician and having the world hear your music? Ay… lo sentio mi Corazon I have been a horrible wife to you. I" before Imelda had a chance to continue her apology, Hector placed his finger on her lips, hushing her as he leaned in and kissed her forehead. Imelda shuddered, leaning into his kiss. She wrapped her arms around her Hector and held him close, burying her face in his chest to hide the flood of tears that were beginning to pour down her face. Hector closed his eyes and rested his head on top of hers, holding her as close as he could.

"No, don't apologize Imelda. You have every right to be angry at me. You have been so supportive of me and my music for so long, and for that, I will forever be grateful. But, as usual, you're right. I can't leave you or our Coco. This is where I need to be." He whispered, slowly swaying back and forth. He felt Imelda shake her head against his chest and heard her sniffle. She looked up at him, tears swimming in her eyes and trickling down her cheeks. The melancholy look on her face broke his heart all over again. She looked so much like Coco had moments ago; tired, confused and above all sad. He raised his hands and whipped away her warm tears. Just like he did with Coco earlier, Imelda reached up and wrapped her hand around his wrist.

"Hector…" Imelda whispered. Hector shook his head and let go of her damp face and held her close once more.

"Don't say a word mi amor. Ernesto is coming over in the afternoon to talk about the tour, and I'm going to tell him I'm not coming." Hector said, his smile growing wider as he spoke. Scenes of what their life could be. He saw himself and Imelda sitting side by side, making the best shoes they possibly could. He saw Coco running around and playing, singing his songs as she went about her merry way. He could see a little a little baby, his little mijo crawling around the floor until Imelda scooped him up in her arms and cuddled him to her chest. Sure he knew his mind was running wild, but it filled him with so much joy he felt he would burst.

As he and Imelda held each other and swayed, Hector vowed he would do his best to make his fantasy a reality.

He just had to talk to Ernesto.


	2. I WILL STAND BY YOU

**AN: HELLO MY LOVELIES! :D HERE IS THE REVISED/UPDATED VERSION OF CHAPTER TWO! CHAPTER THREE SHOULD BE UP… WELL I'M NOT SURE BUT FAIRLY SOON. I HAVE A LOT OF UNPACKING TO DO AND THINGS TO SORT THROUGH SO WE'LL SEE WHAT HAPPENS.**

 **THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR UNDERSTANDING AND PAITENCE! IT TRULY MEANS THE WORLD TO ME! I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH, AND HOPEFULLY THIS IS MUCH MORE ACCEPTABLE.**

 **DISLCAIMER: I DO NOT OWN COCO… KAY? WE COOL WE COOL FAM.**

~CHAPTER TWO~

~I WILL STAND BY YOU~

~CHAPTER TWO~

~I WILL STAND BY YOU~

Hours had passed since Hector had decided he would stay in Santa Cecilia. The sun had risen high in the sky and pounded on the Rivera house, which only managed to trap heat inside its stone walls.

That didn't wipe the smile off Imelda's face though. Even though her face was damp with sweat, she had been glowing all morning into the afternoon. The whole morning was spent in each other's arms despite the blistering heat, relishing in the simple fact that Hector was staying home. Things only escalated when Coco came running from her room. Hector immediately scooped her into his arms, and Imelda held both or her amores close.

All of that was made Imelda's heart sing. She found herself humming to herself once again as she went about her mundane chores. As the sun reached its peaked she found herself sitting at a small table, trying a small pile of dishes as she hummed Coco's song to herself. Her lips were curled in a content smile, her expression dreamy as she stared far too long at the plate in her hand.

"Admiring yourself?" Hector chuckled, startling Imelda out of her joyous daze. She turned her gaze towards him, feeling lighter than air. Her smile only grew wider when she laid eyes on Hector's devilish smirk. Imelda rolled her eyes, her tender smile turning into a smirk to mirror Hector's.

"Wouldn't you like to know. What you should be concerned about is that shoe your trying to make… if you can even call it a shoe." She replied, placing the clean plate down. She folded her hands on her lap and leaned towards Hector. Her gaze turned to the unfinished shoe in his hands. At that moment there was nothing to celebrate despite Hector's valiant effort. He was in the process of securing the leather to the wooden sole. The smooth ebony leather hung clumsy and limp on the sole, threatening to slide off at any moment.

Hector could frown dejectedly as Imelda examined his attempt, her smirk softening as she shook her head. She reached over and gingerly took the shoe from his hands, still shaking her head.

"Ay mi amor, you certainly tried." She mused, twisting the shoe in her hands as she continued to examine it. Hector's dejected frown turned into one of annoyance the longer Imelda scrutinized his work.

"Oh mi amor." She sighed. She reached over and relieved Hector of the toles resting on the table before him.

"Why don't I finish the shoe and you finish the dishes," Imelda suggested, gently pushing the undried plates towards him. Hector's dejected frown transformed into a pout as he glared at the dishes. He crossed his arms and huffed. Imelda raised her eyebrow and stared at him in disbelieve.

"Quierdo I know it's frustrating but please don't act like a child." She said, immediately turning her attention back to the show and picking up her tools. She bit her lips to keep from smiling as Hector gasped and began to stammer;

"ME A CHILD?! I am not acting like a child!" He exclaimed, slamming his hands on the table. The feeble table shook, and the plates rattled. Hector immediately placed his hands on the plates, saving them from tragedy. He slowly turned his gaze to Imelda, whose sunny expression had finally disappeared, if only for a moment. She glared at him in disapproval and crossed her arms. Hector shrugged, his lips turning into a wide, sheepish smile as he sat back down. Without saying a word, he reached over and picked up the rag and continued the task he was set, whistling along as he went. Imelda's smirk returned at the sound of his whistling, shaking her head once more as she began to fix the work Hector had started.

For a while, the two worked as a silent pair. The only sound that would be heard was Imelda attaching leather on top the sole and Hectors whistling. As she diligently crafted a new black boot, Imelda occasionally glanced to her left to watch her husband. Hector was just as invested in drying the dishes as Imelda was crafting the perfect shoe. His face was twisted in concentration, his eyes narrow and his eyebrows furrowed together. The moment he was done with a plate, he would stretch out his arms and examine it from every angle. Every now again, Imelda was positive he was examining himself in the shining plates. She caught him smirking and winking at a clean plate, only putting down when he satisfied with his reflection.

Imelda felt her lips curl into a loving smile. Her heart began to sing, and at that moment she felt as if she could fly. Despite her hands being focused on her work, her eyes were focused on Hector and her mind was wondering. Before she realized what had happened, her thoughts had traveled five years in the past, when she had met Hector for the first time at the tender age of sixteen.

She thought about how she had gone to market square with a pounding headache thanks to her two twin brothers. She remembered at least two boys flowing her with wide, puppy dog eyes. She remembered finding herself in the center, of the market, standing in the middle of a crowd watching two young Mariachis. They were around the same age as her, and both were extremely passionate about the music they were playing. Despite the happy life they had created, Imelda could still not remember why Hector had caught her eye. He was not ugly by any means-but when standing next to Ernesto his quirks were painfully obvious. It was almost unfair comparing Hector to his longtime friend. Hector was tall and lanky, making him look like a pole compared to Ernesto's muscular frame. His face was thin and long, more angular than Ernesto's far more subtle features. His nose was long and hooked, but it somehow fit his face perfectly. There was nothing soft about his features at all-he was all sharp angles and lines.

Imelda had wanted to ignore them both and continue with her day, but fate had other plans. Before she had an opportunity to try and leave the crowd, she heard the strum of a guitar and the proudest grito she had ever heard. It echoed through the air, sending shivers down her spine. Then Hector began to play. Imelda stared in awe, amazed at how quickly his fingers moved. She remembered how Hector closed his eyes and lost himself in the music. She barely noticed the sound of the crowd cheering and applauding. Without realizing it she too had been swept away by the music, by the passion of the two men performing.

Until the day she died, Imelda would be forever grateful she had been driven out of her house by her brothers. She was forever grateful she wandered into the market and stumbled upon two young Mariachis.

Unbeknownst to Imelda, she had become so adrift in her memories that her tools and the shoes in her hands were placed on the table. She placed her elbows on the table and rested her cheek in one of her hands. For lord knows how long she had been gazing with a dreamy expression as he finished the dishes. Deep down a little voice was laughing at her, reminding Imelda how foolish it was to be dwelling in memories. Yet those memories continued to play in her head like a grand movie, jumping from their first kiss to their wedding to the moment she told him they were going to be parents.

The corners of her lip spread even wider at the memory, creating a goofy smile that only her husband could match. Butterflies began to flutter in her stomach and she was filled with nothing but joy. She just wanted to stay in her memories for a little longer and watch her beloved clean dishes-such a mundane task that filled her with so much pleasure. This truly was everything she could have hoped for.

"Imelda! Oi Imelda!" Hector cried, his voice sounding muffled and distance. Imelda blinked the clouds out of her mind, only to be grated with a hand waving in front of her face. Imelda turned her lips into a frown and swatted Hector's hand away, quickly picking up her tools and returning to work.

"What was that about mi amor?" Hector asked, pushing his finished stack of dishes to the side. Imelda shrugged, keeping her eyes on her finished product.

"Nada. You were just being annoying." She claimed, placing the first boot aside to start making its other half. She stood and marched into the other room, desperately attempting to ignore Hector's amused grin. It was no use though. As she stomped passed him she could see that aggravatingly handsome smile out of the corner of her eye. Though she would never admit it, that smile made her heart flutter and her stomach flip with delight. She could feel her face flush ever so slightly as she sat down, keeping her eyes trained on the small black shoe in her hand.

" _Dios this is ridiculous."_ She thought bitterly, her hands gripping together on the poor boot. It maddening how she felt like the love-struck fifteen-year-old, being swept off her feet by a lanky and straggly musician. When she heard his footsteps walking towards her, Imelda felt her lips turn up into a content smile-despite how much she wanted to keep her irritated appearance. That smile grew wider with the sound of the chair next to her scraping on the floor and the sight of his lanky body out of the corner of her eye.

With that final glance, Imelda gave in and let the rest on the table, lifting her head and finally giving her full attention to Hector. When she looked at him, she was greeted with a beaming smile that reached from ear to ear, and bright dark orbs full of joy. Imelda's face softened at the sight, her eyes melted with each passing second. Her heart glowed and felt so full she thought she might combust. It was in that moment she suddenly knew why she had been possessed by a silly teenager.

Hector was there, right before her, smiling and looking at her with all the love in the world. He was there, safe and was never going to leave her.

All those wonderful dreams she had for their future had never felt so close. She could almost reach out and touch them.

Since she was not able to physically hold on to thoughts and dreams, Imelda reached out and gingerly placed her hand on Hector's face, stroking his thin cheek with her thumb. For a moment they both gazed at each other, lost in their own world, their hearts singing. As Hector gently held Imelda's wrist, he leaned forward, making Imelda tingle with delight. She closed her eyes and held perfectly still, letting Hector place his lips on hers. The moment she felt their soft warmth though she leaned in to deepen it. She wrapped her arms securely around his neck, and in return, Hector held tight to her waste Still it wasn't enough. The moment they parted for a breath of air, Hector whisked her off the chair and on to his lap. Imelda closed her eyes and nestled her head in the crook of his neck. Her heart hummed with delight as Hector kissed her temple and rested his head on top of her head. Every muscle seemed to relax in the warmth that radiated from him.

Imelda could have stayed there for the rest of her days; entwined in her husbands' arms and soaking every inch of him; from his thick eyebrows to his impossibly high and sharp cheekbones. She thanked God that she could fulfill her wish and stay like this as long as she wanted to.

"Gracias," Imelda whispered.

"De nada… but uh… tell me what I did to earn such thanks." Imelda chuckled, finally opening her eyes and looking up at Hector. His brown eyes were trained on her, his face etched with confusion. Imelda shook her head, another chuckle bubbling in her chest. It was almost endearing how oblivious he could be. She looked into that face for one moment longer, then kissed his cheek. Imelda leaned close to his ear and whispered,

"Tanto… Thank you for staying." Hector gazed down at Imelda, his face lighting up with realization. He watched as Imelda closed her eyes once more and nestled her head in the crook of his neck. For the first time in days, Imelda finally appeared content. There were no creases in her forehead, no pursed lips and no icy eyes. There was only a content smile on her soft features. The sight made Hector's heart melt. His features softened as she gently stroked her cheek, gazing at her serene expression.

If the light in Coco's eyes was enough to finally sway his mind then the image of Imelda at peace was enough to confirm Hector's choice. This was where he needed to be, close to his wife so they could face the world together.

Comforted he made the right choice, Hector mimicked Imelda and closed his eyes, letting himself completely relax. He leaned down, prepared to place a gentle kiss on her forehead and fall into the same deep state of relaxation Imelda had fallen into, only to be interrupted by an all to familiar cry.

"MMMMAAAAAMMMMMAAAA!" Imelda's eyes shot open as Hector's head turned towards the sound of that pitiful cry. Without a word or a moment's hesitation, Imelda untangled herself from Hectors' hold and smoothed her dress. She swiftly walked around the small table, her feet quick and nimble. She was not quick enough for Coco though, who let out another piercing

"MMMMMAAAAAMMMMMAAA!" The sound of her cry bounced on the stone walls and rang in Hector's ears. It amazed him Imelda could stay so calm as she rushed to the Coco's little room. He knew what she would be greeted with once she entered the room. Coco would be sitting up in her bed, surrounded by soft blankets with tears falling down her face. The moment Imelda, she would reach her chubby arms out for her. Hector had no clue why, but whenever Coco woke up she could be completely disoriented and full of tears. The worse came when she woke up from her nap-seemingly confused as to where she was. It was, Hector had to admit, a rather nasty habit he inherited from her. Had he actually slept the night before, there would have been a moment of cold terror where the world would appear to him as a jumble of pieces and he would have no inkling where he was. He had no idea why his brain played such tricks on him, but he did know if it filled him with fear, he couldn't imagine the terror it caused his little hija.

"Ssshhh… mija it's okay." Hector heard Imelda cooed, her voice coming closer and grasping his full attention. He turned his head towards the small bed room saw Imelda walking towards the little kitchen table with little Coco bundled in her arms. Her little face was buried in Imelda's shoulders, hiding the sounds of her little sniffles and weak cries. Hector's lips turned into a sad smile, his heart warmed by sight of Imelda holding on tightly to Coco, whispering calming words and rubbing little circles on her back.

"¿Todo bien?" Imelda nodded, placing a kiss on Coco's head.

"Si. She just got a little confused and scared when she woke up, didn't you mija?" Imelda cooed, her lips turned up in a kind smile. That smile only grew when she felt Coco nod against her shoulder. She gave her back and sat down next to Hector. Coco refused to look up from her mother's shoulder and held on to her as if her life depended on it. She only began to lift her head when she felt a new, gentle hand rubbing her back. She looked at her father with weary, puzzled eyes. Hector gave her a warm smile, leaned close and kissed her temple.

"You're okay mija." He soothed, watching Coco burrow deeper into her Mama. Imelda grinned at Hector, then turned her eyes to Coco and giving her a gentle squeeze.

"I think a nice hug from Papa will help make everything better, don't you think?" Coco looked at Hector, her foggy mind considering what her Mama had said. Not even a second later she twisted herself to face her Papa and held out her arms for him. Hector was only too willing to oblige. He scooped her out of Imelda's arms and into his, holding her close to his chest kissing her button nose.

For what felt like the millionth time that day, Hector counted his blessings, and knew he had made the right decision.

Ernesto de le Cruz relished many things in life. He relished the thick material of his bright blue mariachi suit. He relished how even in a town full of color like Santa Cecilia the vibrant color made him stand out. He relished the guitar strapped over his back and the big hat on his head. Most of all he relished the smiles and gazes he received from those he passed. There was always someone who would wave and tell him how much he loved his music.

Those compliments, no matter how much he savored every compliment and praise, made his made his stomach tighten and his hands ball into a fist. The music they complimented was not really HIS music. The horrible, awful truth was Ernesto had absolutely no talent for writing music no matter how hard he tried. That was Hector's forte. Oh no one could write songs like Hector, but as far as Ernesto was concerned he could not perform said music with the same finesse he could.

That was why they made such a great team-Hector was the brains and talent behind the music, and Ernesto would perform them in a way no one else could. The whole town knew of the magic they created and transformed them into hometown celebrities. Ernesto's carefree smile grew bigger as he thought of the crowds who would flock to the plaza to see the two young mariachis.

And now, they were going to share their magic with all of Mexico-maybe even the world if everything falls into place.

Or more importantly... if Hector didn't change his mind.

The very thought made Ernesto's smile disappear in an instant, replaced by a sullen an irritated frown. His hands gripped tightly to the black strap attached to his guitar, causing the rough material to dig into his hands. His steps quickened as if reaching Hector's small home would make the evil thoughts disappear. They persisted though-taunting him with each step and each passing second.

It was only the day before when Ernesto had come running to Hector, bursting and bristling with excitement. He had thrown his arms around his old friend, coming to close to lifting him off his feet and swinging him in a full circle. When he let go of Hector, his words spilled out of his mouth with astonishing speed. Looking back on it, Ernesto was surprised Hector managed to understand anything he had said. Whatever the case Ernesto had gotten his point across;

"Amigo we're going on tour! A tour all over Mexico! We're leaving in two days!"

Ernesto would never forget the shocked expression that colored Hector's face-how his soft dark eyes were swimming with doubt. He would never forget how Hector had just stared at him, not utter a word, not even smiling. He stared as if he couldn't comprehend the fantastic news he had just been given. Even before he had voiced his doubts, his concerns about this grand adventure, Ernesto had already felt as if Hector had dealt him a cold slap. When he finally spoke, his words were like a stab in the back;

"Ernesto it sounds great but… I don't know if I can join you this time."

Just the memories of those words made Ernesto's blood boil. Without realizing it his steps had turned into heavy stomps, making the clicking of his boots sound more like thunder. He continued on like this, pouting and stomping until he noticed the perplexed stares of those around them. It was only then he realized how tight his muscles had become, how hot his face had become and how heavy his steps were. A new flash of anger surged through him-this time at himself. How on earth could he have allowed such negativity to overpower him, to become so lost in his thoughts? As far as he was concerned becoming lost his thoughts and emotions was unacceptable-and should be left for fools like Hector.

"Senor de la Cruz are you okay?" Someone asked, causing Ernesto to stop in his tracks.

With a small chuckle, Ernesto rolled his shoulders back, straightened his spine and held his head high. He continued to saunter on with his confident swagger, looking over his shoulder and grinned at the concerned bystander.

"Ay nothing to worry yourself about amigo!" He called back, winking at the stunned man before he turned his head forward. As he walked under the bright sun Ernesto only had two thoughts running through his head; keep looking forward and make Hector understand he must come on this tour. His grin once again became a jovial smile the longer he listened to those thoughts, his steps growing lighter and lighter.

Yes. Everything would be okay. He and Hector would make a name for themselves and become famous.

Soon enough the humble home of the Riveras came into view, Ernesto was brimming confidence and hope. His optimism only grew when he heard Hectors familiar, warm tenor floating through an open window. Ernesto immediately recognized the tune to "Un Poco Loco"-a delectable piece he had written for his diosa. However, it was sung much slower and far more controlled than he had every head it. Before Ernesto had a chance to allow his confusion to fester, he heard a different voice spill through the window. It was high and as light as a feather. Ernesto stopped in his tracks at the sound of that innocent voice- his face became pale white and his heart pounding. His fears were only confirmed when he heard an all too familiar voice cry,

"That's my girl! I knew you had it in you!" It was followed by a joyous shriek and giggles. A new, fresh flash of furry overpowered him. He had completely forgotten the one little wrench in his perfect plan-the one thing that would keep Hector stuck in this little town.

Coco…

The very thought of her made Ernesto's blood boil and memories flash through his head. It seemed only yesterday Hector had come dashing to him with the "amazing news"-he was going to be a Papa. Ernesto could still remember the pure joy on his face and the love in his eyes. He could still clearly remember coming to visit his friends the morning after Socorro was born and how blissful his friend was.

That should have been sign number one that things were changing, but at the time there was nothing he could do.

Well- no mas.

Ernesto sucked in a deep breath and puffed his chest-prepared for battle. He put on his best smile and marched through that door.

The scene Ernesto walked into was anything but uncommon, but it still hit Ernesto like a punch in the gut. Imelda was sitting at the small round table, her hands busy with a half-made busy. Hector sat on the floor, his gleaming white guitar placed on his lap. His fingers carefully played "Un Poco Loco", his voice tender and slow. Kneeling in front of him was a little girl in a pale yellow dress. She watched her father with great interest, her little braids dangling in front of her round face. All the while Imelda would look over at her little family, a content smile on her beautiful face. Everything was so calm, and both Hector and Imelda seemed completely at peace.

" _Mireda… this isn't good."_ Ernesto felt panic begin to cease his throat. Something was not right… not right at all.

Ernesto straightened his bright blue jacket and cleared his throat, causing all activity in the house to stop. Both Imelda and Hector looked at Ernesto with surprise-both wondering when he had entered their home. Before either had a chance to react Coco was on her feet and dashed to Ernesto.

"¡Tío Ernesto!" She cheered, wrapping her arms around Ernesto's legs. Despite himself, Ernesto felt his features soften and a momentary flash of affection colored his features. He patted the top of her head and chuckled, surprised at how natural his smile was.

"Hola niña. I heard you singing when I was coming-you sound really good."

"¡Gracias! I try really hard to be good like you and Papa." She said, tightening her hold on his legs as a way to say further thank him. Ernesto gave her head another pat, hoping she would let go after that. When she didn't Ernesto glanced at her parents, silently begging them for help. Imelda's features softened as she placed the unfinished shoe on the table. She went over to Coco and knelt to her level, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Amor why don't you let go of your tío and go play in your room? Mama and Papa need to talk with tío for a little bit." Ernesto froze as Coco reluctantly let go of his legs and walked to her room, only stopping for Hector to stroke her head one last time. Imelda's words bounced through his head, sending panic and furry flying through him. Both of them-he was expected to talk with both of them! It baffled him that Imelda tried to insert herself in conversations she didn't need to be in?

Ernesto clenched and unclenched his fist, willing his emotions to calm as he watched Hector stand to come and hug him.

"Amigo I'm glad you're here. We really do need to talk." Hector said, giving Ernesto a tight hug. Ernesto returned the hug, his stomach twisting with knots. He forced himself to smile when Hector let him go and held his shoulders, his face full of regret.

"Si… I think I know what you're going to tell me and you can't do this!" Ernesto exclaimed, his voice growing louder and more frantic with each word. Hector rolled his eyes and sighed, rubbing his temples and shaking his head.

"Ernesto you should have known this would happen." He said, his voice calm and controlled.

"No, I shouldn't have! We're a team Hector and we have been from the beginning."

"Si and we still are." By this point Imelda had come to his hand, standing as tall and imposing as he stature would allow. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her eyes narrow and haughty. Ernesto refused to look at her, avoiding her hard gaze at all coast. He knew what she was trying to do and he wouldn't fall for it.

"Then why are you backing out?! This is our big chance and you are going to ruin it!"

Hector placed his hand on his hips, trying to mask the sting of his words.

"You know why Ernesto. I can't just pick up and leave anymore Ernesto. I have" Ernesto threw his hands up and scoffed,

"Si you have responsibilities now I am WELL aware of that." He took off his hat and ran his hand through his thick ebony hair, his anger threatening to overpower him. He looked down at his shoes, desperately trying to mask his expression but it was pointless. When he looked back at Hector, his expression was wild with desperation and rage.

"Hector please you can't do this. I'm begging you. You'll be wasting your talents in this good for nothing town" Ernesto pleaded, his voice frantic.

"How dare you! You've lived here your whole life just like we did-you're no better than us! And he is certainly not wasting his talents! You saw how happy he-"

"Oh si Imelda because that's what someone like Hector should be doing- singing for a three-year-old and learning to make shoes!" Imelda's jaw dropped, her face growing red with furry. Hector could have sworn he saw steam coming out of her ears-and he certainly knew she was about to go for blood. Or at the very least her trusty black boot.

"¡Hijo de puta! Get out of my house right now or I swear to god!" Imelda roared, ready to throw him out of the house. Ernesto braced himself for whatever was going to come-a hard shove or a slap to the face were the most likely options. Before she had a chance to get her hands on him, Hector let out a loud whistle, causing both Imelda and Ernesto to freeze. They both looked at Hector with red faces and eyes full of spite. Hector held their wild expresses with an uncharacteristically hard expression, his hands firmly on his hips.

"Both of you need to calm down. Screaming and threatening each other isn't going to fix anything. But… my point still stands Ernesto. I can't"

"Think of the money Hector!" Ernesto exclaimed, filled with desperation. Hector's hard expression melted into tentative curiosity. Even Imelda seemed to buckle, her own expression mirroring Hectors. It took every ounce of strength to not grin with delight at the sight of them-his heart flickering with hope.

He got them right where he wanted them.

"I'm listening…." Hector said, his voice full of caution. Ernesto straightened his jacket and allowed his lips to twist into a small grin, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction.

"I already have people who promised to pay us well. Enough to help Imelda and Coco… and even help Imelda start a shoe business." Ernesto claimed. Silence fell over the group as he watched astonishment dance over Imelda and Hector's face. He could tell his claims were swirling through their heads, weighing their options.

"¿En serio?" Hectored breathed, his arms relaxing at his side. Ernesto nodded, his expression growing ever more excited.

"Yes, very serious-and think about it, Hector. You want to become a better musician and this is your chance to get to do just that!" Ernesto exclaimed, his heart pumping on pure adrenaline. For all it was worth, Ernesto could tell his friend was beginning to sway. Hector's eyes had narrowed in concentration and stared at the floor as he stroked his little goatee-a habit he had from the moment the little piece of hair had grown on his chin. Ernesto's hope only grew as Hector began to mutter to himself-the telltale sign the gears in his brain were churning. Imelda looked on with distress written all over her face. Ernesto did his best to avoid those fearful, pleading eyes. He said a silent prayer that Hector would be able to ignore them.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity Hector ceased stroking his goatee and stopped muttering. He stood eerily still, his dark eyes still turned on the floor. Ernesto was holding his breath the entire time, waiting for Hector to do something-anything.

Then as if he had personally had God's ear Hector looked up from the floor, his expression riddled with guilt. Only he was not looking at Ernesto with those remorseful eyes but Imelda.

There was no need for Hector to speak. His expression and who it was directed to said all that needed to be said-but of cores Hector had to say something.

"Imelda mi amor… Ernesto is right. I... I need to go." He said, his voice gentle and full of remorse.

For Imelda, the world stopped turning and everything was completely still. Her feet were frozen to the floor and every muscle had gone rigid. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably fast-making her blood flow far too quickly and far too hot. It was all she could hear-the sound of her rapid heart and her heavy breathing. In fact, it was the only thing she was aware of besides her burning face and the aggravatingly regretful expression Hector wore. Whatever words Hector had said were lost in her own turmoil.

How could he?!

How could he?!

How could he?!

Those words repeated in Imelda's head over and again, only worsening her rage. First, her hands started to tremble, then her arms and shoulders, and soon enough her whole small body was shaking with furry. Hector continued to stare at her with a guilty, concerned expression. He reached out to touch her shoulders-probably pull her into a hug. She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder and it was far too much for Imelda. Something inside of her snapped, breaking all the thin threads that had been desperately holding her together. As if she was possessed by a force stronger than herself, she raised her hand and dealt Hector a slap so hard she hoped he would be seeing stars.

"Don't. Touch. Me!" Imelda roared. The room seemed to shake under the weight of her scream. Hector felt his heart reach to his throat and his stomach twist into painful knots. He watched Imelda breathe heavily, her face growing redder and tears pouring down her cheeks. He desperately wanted to reach out to her, to pull her in close and tell her how sorry he was. Yet no matter how desperately his heart ached to hold her his body stayed frozen with shock. It was only when Imelda stormed off to heaven knows where that he felt his arm reach out to her, heard his voice cry out her name.

It was too late. She had already slammed the door as hard as she could, making nearby objects tremble and shake.

Hector stared at the door, desperation gnawing at his stomach. For a moment he allowed himself to hope that Imelda would come back through that door. He knew it was foolish of him to wish for such things. Hector knew his wife would not be coming back anytime soon-and when she came back he knew he would be greeted with the same hostile and hurt expression she had left with.

She hated him… his wife, the love of life, hated him. He could already hear a nasty little voice in the back of his head taunting him, laughing as it said he would never be allowed back in his home once he left. He would never be able to see or hold his beautiful diosa anymore. He would never be able to make his little hija smile or hear her sweet voice.

At that moment, as the weight of his choice fell on his shoulders, Hector knew Imelda would never forgive him.

Hours and hours had passed since Ernesto had entered the Rivera house and tarnished their domestic tranquility. The bright sun had made its grand descent, and the moon has taken its place. Imelda stared at that moon as she slowly made her way home. It gave a gentle glow, giving the cobbled streets a comforting silver hue. For the first time in hours, her lips curled into the smallest smile.

She was grateful for the shining moon and the twinkling stars that surrounded it. Not only did it give and haunting radiance that could not be matched in the blazing sunlight. The heat had broken just enough for the air to be comfortable. More importantly, the streets were unusually bare that night, devoid of the usual chatter and music that filled the sky. For the first time in a long time, Imelda truly felt alone as the walked the familiar streets, cloaked in darkness.

It was better that way. No one could see how red her eyes were, how her hair had fallen out of it's elegant up due or hunched her shoulders were. Imelda wrapped the shawl the friend she had run to gave her, trying to cover every inch that she could, desperately trying to hide. She kept her eyes on the sky, her thoughts only on what had transpired earlier. She instantly felt her chest become heavy with regret the more she dwelled on what had happened. She could still picture the horrified look on Hector's face when she had slapped him when she had screeched so loud it made the room tremble. It was like a stab in the heart to see those eyes that were normally filled with so much love to be so terrified.

It was her fault… all her fault….

Imelda shook her head, attempting to rid herself of that painful imagine. She closed her eyes and breathed in the night air, letting it soothe her aching heart. Nothing would change what she had done, nothing could erase the image of Hector's face out of her head no matter how hard she wanted to. At least the quiet and warm air allowed her torrent of anger to calm, but even that ultimately brought no relief. The moment the furry was gone it was replaced by the heavy burden of guilt. It weighed every inch of her down, making her feel heavier than she actually was.

Imelda knew there was only one way the ease the burden, and the very thought of it sent a cold shot of fear up her spine. It made her open her eyes open-and what should she see but the one thing she had been dreading the most; her home. She had no idea what to expect when she got back, but the gentle glow in the window filled her with hope. It meant that Hector had stayed up waiting for her, that there was an even the smallest chance he was no longer terrified or full of anger.

Imelda gazed up at the moon one last time. She held her hands to together, closed her eyes and said a silent prayer.

" _Por favor… don't let him be mad. Please… please let him forgive me."_

Her prayer sent to God, Imelda straightened her spine and held her head high. She slowly moved towards her home, never taking her eyes off it as it moved closer and closer. Her fingers gripped her thin shawl tighter and she tried to wrap it even tighter as if was the only thing holding her together. Imelda shook her head again, trying to ignore how her hands trembled.

There was no time to will the fear away. The door she had slammed hours before was right in front of her. She only allowed herself to stare at it for a moment as she gathered her thoughts and make herself as tall she could. With one last suck of air, she opened the door, prepared for whatever awaited her.

The kitchen was dimly lit, with only a lone candle lighting the entire room. There was nothing but utter silence-meaning Coco was fast asleep. Imelda let out a sigh of relief-thankful she wouldn't have to explain herself to Coco just yet.

There was still the matter of Hector though.

She found him sitting at the kitchen table, his head hung low and shoulders hunched. His elbows were plastered firmly on the table, a small held firmly in his hand. Beside his elbow was a bottle of tequila.

Imelda felt her heart break into a million little pieces. Her eyes begin to burn once again and she could already begin to feel tears pour down her face once more. Her feet seemed to move on their own, dashing towards him.

"Hector…." She whispered, her voice rough and cores. Hector slowly looked up at the sound of his voice, as if he didn't believe she wasn't really there. He stared at her for a moment, as if he was seeing a ghost.

Imelda gasped, a covered her mouth with a trembling hand. If Imelda looked haggard, then Hector looked as if he had been through hell and back. His skin looked pallid in the candlelight, his messy hair far more unruly than it usually was. What stunned and horrified Imelda the most was his eyes. They were a painful scarlet and lifeless… completely and utterly lifeless.

"Hector.." She breathed, afraid to move towards him. Those lifeless eyes suddenly widened, full of recognition and relief. Hector sprung out of the chair, knocking over the little glass on the floor and causing it to shatter. He dashed to Imelda and pulled her into his arms, holding her as close to him as he possibly could. He buried his face in her hair, and she allowed herself to cry silent tears in his chest and hold him just as close. An all-consuming sense of relief overpowered them, making every muscle in their body relax and causing them to melt into each other. Hector began to kiss her hair and sway, making Imelda feel even more at ease.

He wasn't mad… He still loved her.

"I was so worried Imelda." Hector whispered, his voice weak and trembling. Imelda finally looked up at him and saw a few lone tears falling down his cheeks. She released his waist and brought her hands to his face, gently whipping away those stubborn tears with her thumbs.

"Los siento mi amor…. Lo siento por todo." Hector gawked at her, his face twisted with confusion.

"Imelda… why are you apologizing? This is all" He began, only to be cut off by Imelda standing on her toes and kisses him as deep as she could. Hector stiffened in shock but was only glad to deepen in the kiss. He held her even tighter and dug his fingers into her long eyes, still genteelly swaying back and forth. Time seemed to stand still at that moment, only to rear its ugly head when they pulled apart for air. Imelda gentle stroked his cheek, her lips twisting into a melancholily smile and her eyes shining with adoration.

"I overacted. I shouldn't have screamed like that and ran away. It wasn't fair to you or Coco…" She said, her voice trailing off and her smile disappearing as she spoke her daughter's name.

"She's okay Imelda-a little confused and scared but she's okay." Imelda nodded, silently grateful she had not scared her daughter too much.

"Still… I acted horribly. I hope... I hope you can forgive me mi amor." She said, her voice breaking as she finished her apology. Hector's stunned expression melted into one full of love and adoration. He pressed his forehead against hers and stroked her long dark waves.

"No matter what you do mi corazon you will never get rid me-you know that right?" He teased, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. Imelda chuckled and found herself getting lost in those beautiful dark eyes. She stood on her toes once more and kissed his cheek, letting her eyelashes flutter against his thin face.

"Si.. yo se. And no matter how moronic you act you will never get rid of me either." She responded, her voice no louder than a whisper. Hector's mischievous grin turned into a beaming smile. He kissed her cheeks and brushed his nose against hers. He pulled himself further away from Imelda and moved his once arm to his waist. He held her other hand and turned their swaying into a dance. They slowly made their way around the kitchen, their hearts and feet as light as air. As the rounded the small table Hector kissed her forehead, and then placed his against hers.

"Am I still your heroe?" He asked with a chuckle. Imelda rolled her eyes and shook her head, letting out a small laugh.

"I was drunk when I called you that cabron. " She purred, closing her eyes. Hector chuckled once more kissing her temples.

"Still counts mi amor." He whispered, making Imelda shuddered. She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and sighed, completely content to let him lead the dance wherever it took them. Imelda finally opened her eyes and looked straight into his. Her heart melted at the sight of his warm eyes, her soul was set a flamed by the smile on his face. She felt her breath being stolen away and she could have cared less. She tightened her hold on his shirt and pulled her self-close to his face.

His breath was hot and reeked of tequila. It didn't matter to her though. She hovered her lips over his, just letting them barely touch as she purred,

"You Hector Rivera will always be my heroe if you promise to come home as soon as you can. That way we can work on giving Coco, sibling… hmmm?" Imelda purred. She felt a giggle-yes a giggle-bubble her chest as Hector gasped, his eyes glowing with excitement and hunger… a hunger Imelda would be all too willing to satisfy.

"Like I said… you're never getting rid of me." He whispered, finally closing the small space between their lips.


	3. NO HAY BIEN PT 1

**AN: GUYS GUYS! LOOK WHAT I GOT *DANCES AROUND WITH HER SHINY DIPOLMA* NOW I CAN FINALLY SIT DOWN AND BEGIN WRITING. I'M SO EXCITED TO GET BACK INTO THE GROOVE OF THINGS AND WORK ON THIS STORY.**

 **I DON'T KNOW WHY I FEEL THE NEED TO PUT THIS, BUT THIS CHAPTER IS GONNA BE LONG. SO.. THERE'S THAT.**

 **HEY IT WAS GONNA BE LONGER-BUT BECAUSE THERE IS SO MUCH GOING ON I DECIDED TO BREAK IT UP.**

 **BESIDES… WHAT HAPPENS NEXT TO BE IT'S OWN CHAPTER.**

 **SO WITHOUT FURTHER OR DUE I GIVE YOU CHAPTER THREE! HOPEFULLY IT WAS WORTH THE FOUR MONTH WAIT.**

 **PLEASE ENJOY AND PRETTY PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW! :D**

 **DISCLAIMER: *LOOKS AROUND FOR SCARY MEN IN BLACK* PSSST… I WANNA TELL YOU A SECRET. I DON'T OWN COCO OR ANYTHING RELATED TO COCO.I ALSO DON'T OWN WICKED (I USED A SONG TITLE FOR THE CHAPTER.. IN SPANISH) OR ANYTHING RELATED TO IT SHOCKER I KNOW. SO FOR THE LAST TIME LEAVE ME ALONE SCARY MEN! *RUNS AWAY AND HIDES***

CHAPTER THREE~

~NO HAY BIEN ~

~PART ONE~

Morning came all to quickly for Hector and Imelda. They had felt safe cloaked in darkness, entwined in each other's arms. Sleep had been nonexistent for them, lost to the grip of passion and the lure of sweet words. For those fleeting hours the couple could ignore the coming events of the morning, could pretend the past two days had been nothing but a strange dream. Yet despite their wishes the sun began its slow ascent into the sky, chasing the night away. They could not ignore the faint yellow glow of morning seeping into their room.

Which was how Hector ended up standing in his pale pink charro suit, sans the heavy jacket, staring at his suitcase. Ernesto had insisted on boarding the earliest train possible, not leaving him a grand amount of time to pack. He knew he had everything he could possibly need for this tour. All that was left was to throw his song box into the mix. Yet he still found himself scanning everything in his suitcase. He could hear the little clock sitting on Imelda's bedside table ticking relentlessly. As far as Hector was concerned it was no different than someone banging on the door, begging him to close the suitcase and leave. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but the ticking only seemed to grow louder and louder. Realizing he could no longer ignore his fate, Hector gripped the suitcase and slammed it shut with a loud bang. He reached forward and gripped it tight in his fingers, letting it hang by his side. He breathed in deeply through his nose, rubbing his weary eyes as he exhaled. Every part of him ached to drop the suitcase and collapse right back into bed. His pillow had never seen more inviting, and the sheets were calling out to him.

Hector would have listened to their call, had it not been for the familiar sound of heels clicking against the hard floor. He turned towards the sound, his chest aching when he saw Imelda walking towards him, his jacket draped over her arm. His lips stretched into a sad, melancholy smile, the heavy aching in his heart growing stronger. He took a few steps towards her, meeting her in the middle of their room. Imelda looked up at him, her face clouded with exhaustion. Even as she gazed up at him she was straining to keep her eyes open. She rubbed her weary eyes before walking around Hector and standing behind him.

"Hold out your arms." Hector twisted his head over his shoulder, his face twisted in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting on your jacket." She responded, the thick pink jacket held firmly in her thin fingers. Hector tilted his head, his wide eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"I don't need help to put on a jacket mi amor." He responded, expecting his wife's tired face to morph into her usual perturbed expression. Yet her face staid perfectly still and emotionless as she gripped the jacket tighter and stuck out her chin.

"I know. Now hold your arms." She ordered. Hector's lips twisted into a gentle grin, his narrow eyes softened. He stood as straight as his back would allow and held out his arms. He stood perfectly still as Imelda stood on her toes and slid the jacket over his long, thin arms. He shrugged it on his shoulders, his posture relaxing as he felt the comforting weight of the jacket, though it laid awkwardly over his slender body. He raised his arms to fix it, only to feel them freeze at the sound of Imelda's clicking heels. She was standing in front of him once more. He watched attentively as her small hands adjusted the jacket, her infamous serious expression dancing over her delicate features for a moment. When she was satisfied it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced with the tiniest glint of pride.

"There-much better." Imelda declared, running her hands over his chest, her eyes glued on to the jacket as if she was memorizing every little golden detail. Hector felt a chill rush up his spine and the little hairs on his arm stand straight. He closed his eyes, relishing the sensation of her nimble fingers over his chest. Without thinking his arms wrapped around Imelda and pulled her in close, seemingly having a mind of their own. That did not matter to Imelda. She happily buried her face into Hector's chest and encircled her arms around his waist, pulling him in as close she could. Hector rested his cheek on top of her dark hair. He rubbed little circles on her back, soaking in the delicate scent of her mane. The world seemed to melt away if only for a moment. Not even the ticking of the infuriating clock could bother them. All that mattered was Imelda and the feeling of her heart beating against his chest as she melted into him. It was all too tempting to pull her back into the bed and fall in a deep slumber entangled in each other's embrace. He would have done as such, had Imelda not pulled away from his tight hold and placed a kiss on his cheek. Hector reached forward to pull her back, only to be greeted by her long braid swinging in his face as she turned towards the door.

"I'm going to make us some coffee." Imelda declared, making her way out of the room. Hector's eyebrows raised to his hair line. His mouth tingling with delight with anticipation at the hot beverage. He felt a cry of joy tickling up his throat, ready to erupt. However, his eyes widen with realization and his shoulders began to slump in disappointment. As quickly as his joyful anticipation came it vanished when he remembered how little of the fragrant beans they had. Hector couldn't ignore how heavy his muscles felt, how his head ached or how his eyes were fighting to stay open. His body was screaming for the boost the coffee would provide. Yet all he could picture were the many long nights a head of her. She would need the glorious caffeine to get her through the days ahead more than he would need it.

"Don't waste the coffee on me Imelda. I don't need any." Hector said, causing Imelda to stop in her tracks. She turned around and placed her hands squarely on her hips. Her expression was as commanding and intimidating as it had ever been. It seemed to scream "Be quiet idiota I know what's best for you." Yet there was a playful glint in her eyes, almost as if she was laughing at him despite her stern appearance.

"Yes, you do. Do you remember what happened the last time you fell a on a train with Ernesto?" She asked, her lips curling into a teasing smirk before she turned around and marched out of the bedroom.

"Say what you want but I looked good with that mustache."

"No you did not!" Imelda snapped, her footsteps growing faster with irritation. Hector narrowed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, his lips jutting into a childlike pout. He grumbled, refusing to accept that Imelda had been correct in her assertion. He picked up his guitar case and grabbed his suitcase from bed, slumping his way into the kitchen. His grumbling refused to cease as he feet dragged along the floor, his long arms swinging back and forth. When he finally reached the kitchen, he sat in the chair with a loud huff, folding his arms on the table and letting his head fall on them. Imelda snorted at the sight of him, shaking her head in disbelieve.

"Are you really that upset that I didn't think you looked good with that stupid fake mustache?" She asked, crossing her arms. Hector raised his head, his face colored with disappointment.

"A little-if you don't like me with a fake mustache that means I probably can't ever try to grow a real one." He lamented. Imelda snorted once more, a roar of laughter bubbling in her stomach. Her lips curled in an impish smirk as she allowed herself a teasing chuckle.

"If that goatee is anything to go by I don't think you could grow one." Hector's face hardened into a glare, his infamous pout returning once more. Imelda was unphased by his childish expression. She turned around and began to focus on making the promised coffee. Hector petered scowl refused to disappear. Not even the sound of rustling coffee beans, which always filled him with sheer pleasure, could improve his mood. He wanted to believe it was Imelda's lack of believe in his grandiose dreams of a mustache that caused his stomach to tighten and his muscles to feel tense. He wanted to believe it was her biting comments that made his heart feel so heavy. The reality of the matter was his sour state had nothing to do with facial hair and his lack of ability to grow any. Deep within Hector's heart he knew weighed his spirt was Ernesto's impending arrival and begin dragged across the country. He glanced over his shoulder, looking towards Coco's bed room. She was sleeping soundly, wrapped in her thin blankets despite the fast-increasing heat. Her little face would be covered in a curtain of dark brunette hair and her lips would be open in a slight O as dreamed whatever sweet dreams she was having. He felt his chest feel tight and ache in his heart intensify. In the darkness of the night he told Imelda he would not wake her up to say goodbye, that it would be far better if they let her slumber and stay in her dreams.

He was now regretted those words. Hector wanted nothing more than to tip toe into her room and scoop her into his arms. He wanted to shower her with little kisses and sing her their special song. More than anything else in the world he wanted tell remind his little girl how much she was loved. As if Imelda could read his mind, she stepped away from the coffee, her heart aching for her husband. She placed her hand on his shoulder and gently rubbed her thumb against shoulder blade. Despite being lost in the maze of his thoughts Hector did not jump at her gingerly touch. Instead he reached up and took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze. Imelda gave him a sad smile, leaning forward and kissing his temple.

"Mi amor I know we agreed you wouldn't wake up Coco to say goodbye, but that's not what either you or Coco would want. Besides I couldn't… I couldn't bear to see how upset and scared if she woke up and you weren't here. Just make sure she goes back to sleep when you're done." Imelda used her free hand to play with his unkempt black hair, biting her lip to keep a surge of bitter sadness from escaping. Hector looked up at her, his eyes large with surprise. His lips soon curled into a loving, grateful smile. He took her dainty hand, kissed it and held it against his cheek.

"You are too good to me mi alma-even if you don't support my dreams of a mustache." He said, earning a dramatic eye roll from Imelda. He stood up and placed a small kiss on the bridge of her nose. He let go of her hand and walked towards Coco's room, keeping his steps as light as possible. His smile refused to vanish even though he knew he was saying goodbye. At the very least he would be able to hold her one last time reminder how much she was loved.

Hector opened the door and peered in, his chest bursting with warmth at what he saw. Just as he pictured Coco's little body was curled into a little ball under thin blankets, her hair covered her chubby face like a dark curtain. He carefully walked towards her and knelt, gazing at her peaceful face. Sure enough her mouth was in the shape of an O. He gently pushed back the strands of hair that had fallen in front of her face. She moved ever so slightly at the feel of his gentle touch, but it wasn't until Hector began kissing her forehead that she truly began to stir and opened her eyes.

"Buenos días my sunshine." He said, stroking her hair and beaming at her. Coco lifted her little hand, balled it into a fist and rubbed the exhaustion out of her eyes.

"Buenos días Papa." She yawned, blinking up at her Papa. Hector kissed her cheek and brushed his nose against hers, earning a tired giggle from Coco.

"Did you sleep well?" Coco nodded, still tangled up in her blankets and curled in a little ball.

"Bueno. Listen mija, do you remember how I told you how I was going to play music with Ernesto? Well it's time for me to go and say goodbye." He explained, his voice soft and tender. Coco looked up at him aghast, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"Goodbye?" She said, her voice still heavy from sleep. Hector nodded, his smile fading ever so slightly the longer she looked at him with those sad chocolate orbs. Without having to be told Coco lifted up her arms and held them open, ready to wrap them tightly around him. Hector happily bundled her in his arms and held her close to his chest. They held each other as tightly as they could. Hector swayed back and forth, placing little kisses all over her face in between each kiss. Despite her exhaustion and sorrow that her Papa was leaving, she couldn't help but to smile at being showered with so much love and affection. Coco refused to let of her fathers or neck or even look up at him. Exhaustion began to wash over once over, making it seem impossible for her lift up her little head look at him. She nestled herself closer to Hector, burying her face into his shoulder. Hector rested his head on top of hers, swaying ever so slightly and rubbing her back.

"I'm going to miss you so much mija." He said, trying to keep his voice even.

"Me to." Coco responded, her voice lost in the thick material of her papa's charro jacket. Hector held her tighter, the aching in his heart quickly becoming unbearable. Only the feeling of Coco huddled against him, her little arms wrapped tightly around his neck could dull his sadness-if only for a short moment.

"Sing song Papa-por favor?" Coco murmured, letting out a loud yawn as she fluttered her eyes. Hector couldn't help but chuckle at how hard she was fighting to stay awake. He smoothed back her dark hair, kissed her forehead and began to think. New words were spinning and bouncing in his head, desperate to be heard. His smile grew wider as he adjusted Coco so she was cradled against his chest, looking up at him with wide eyes full of expectation.

"Anything for you mi amor." Hector said, making Coco's lips curl in the feeblest attempt at a smile. Though he would have been more content to gaze at Coco as she drifted off to slumber, Hector had a task to complete. Not only did his little girl want her song one last time, but the music was soaring inside of him, threatening to burst out it not released.

He took a deep breath and began to sing.

 _Remember Me_

 _If you can still recall_

 _Remember Me_

 _When darkness starts to fall_

 _For even if I'm far away you take me everywhere_

 _Just sing our secret tune and soon I'm with you then and there_

 _Remember Me_

 _For I will soon be gone_

 _Remember Me_

 _And let the love we have live on_

 _Know that I'm with you the only way that I can be_

 _Until you're in my arms again_

 _Remember Me._

As Hector held the last, soft note Coco shifted in his arms so she was on her knees. Though her features with riddled with fatigue, her face was contorted in a glare that perfectly mimicked her mother's infamous scowl-though it was far more enjoyable on Coco than his wife. She was trying to be intimidating, it was impossible for Hector not to laugh.

"What's wrong mija?"

"That not the song!" Coco huffed, thrusting her hands on her little hips.

"Yes, it is silly. I just changed the words to make it extra special." Coco's scowl vanished into an exhausted, dissatisfied pout.

"But I like the song the normal way." She lamented, her eyes glancing down at her lap. Hector kissed her forehead and held her to his chest, the ache in his chest further dissipating.

"I'll tell you what, every night when you go bed I'll still sing you the song the right way no matter where I am." Coco lifted her head and gazed up at him. Despite how weary she was, her eyes sparkled with awe and adoration. Hector's own expression melted, his own eyes beginning to mimic his daughter's.

"Really?! You promise?" Hector kissed her forehead once more and brought his hand to her face, rubbing his thumb against her cheek bone. Coco stared straight into his eyes full of anticipation. She wrapped her two little hands around Hector's wrist, mimicking what her mother did whenever Hector touched her face.

"I promise." Hector said, earning the biggest smile Coco could muster. She stood on her knees once more, holding Hector's face in her chubby hands.

"I sing to you to!" Coco proclaimed. Hector's smile turned into a beam, his heart glowing and full to the brim with love. He peppered her face with kisses, receiving a few weak giggles from Coco. When he was finished Coco rested her head on his chest, exhausted from the burst of affection. She fluttered her eyes, desperate to keep her open and stay awake. Hector knew Coco was losing when he saw her head begin to tilt, as if it was buckling under the pressure from staying up right.

"All right mi amor. It's time for me to go and for you to go back to bed." Hector stated, standing up so he could place Coco back in bed. Just as he bent down and began to loosen his hold Coco held on to his shirt. Though her grip was feeble at best it was enough to make him stop and look down at her with a pleading expression.

"Mija please you need to go to sleep." Hector implored, hoping he could sooth her back to sleep before his journey began. What Hector had seemed to ignore (or had hoped would not become a problem) was how persistently stubborn his daughter was. She shook her and let out a soft, disgruntled moan. Hector's eyes grew wide with panic. He knew Ernesto would be barging through the door-but more importantly the aroma of coffee had seeped through the bedroom walls, reminding him that his beverage was growing colder by second. His daughter, of course was far more important than caffeine. Realizing he had no other choice Hector stood straight once more and held Coco so her cheek was resting on his shoulder.

"All right mi sol, I'll stay with you until I have to leave." He whispered, kissing her temple as he walked back into the kitchen. He found Imelda sitting at the little table, sitting across from a cup full of coffee. Her eyes were focused on her drink, her face a blank slate. She glanced up at the sound of Hector's shoes, raising an eyebrow when she saw Coco nestled in Hector's arms. Her eyes followed his every moment as Hector say down and flashed an apologetic smile. Imelda felt her own lips twitch into a smile, her chest filling with warmth at the sight of her two greatest loves before her.

"She's asleep, just liked you asked… just not in bed I'm really sorry. I tried to put her down but she wouldn't let me go." Hector whispered, earning a sympathetic smile from Imelda.

"It's okay-just drink with your coffee before it gets any colder." She said, taking a sip of her own beverage. Hector shifted Coco so he could cradle her with one arm and holding the beverage with his free hand.

As they both savored their drink the young couple fell into a comfortable silence. Their eyes were locked on each other, only straying away to admire their slumbering daughter. As peaceful as the silence was, nothing could take away the sense of impending gloom. The warmth Imelda had felt watching Hector cradle their child quickly made her heart break. For the past three years there were few things that gave her more joy than watching them bond and see how much he adored their daughter. It was truly a reminder that-despite what some have said-she was truly blessed to have had him in her life.

Lord how she would miss his smiling face and the way his eyes would melt as he gazed at their Coco. Imelda would miss how she would catch him staring at her when he thought she wasn't looking. She would yearn to hear him mindlessly singing as he completed the most mundane task.

"Imelda?" Hector whispered, pulling the young woman out of herself. She blinked, realizing her eyes were far wetter than she cared to admit. She straightened her posture and looked coolly at Hector, trying to hide her true emotions.

It of course did not work.

"What are you thinking mi amor?" He asked, easily poking a hole through Imelda's aloof façade. She let her hands fall on the table, allowing herself to glance down at her folded hands before looking back at Hector and shrugged.

"I… I was just thinking about how lucky I am." She reached forward and took his free hand and pressed her lips against his knuckles.

"And how much I'm going to miss you." She whispered, her voice cracking ever so slightly. Hector gave her hand a squeeze and nodded, his chest feeling unbearably tight.

"I'm going to miss you to-so"

Hector was cut off by a knock on the door. His spine stiffened and his grip on Imelda's hand tightened. Imelda rolled her eyes, pulling her hand out of Hectors. She stood to open the door only to have swing open in her face, causing her to stumble back.

"Oh… sorry I didn't mean to scare you." Enresto said, his voice full of fake concern. Imelda thrusted her hands on her hips and hardened her face in that infamous glare.

"Of course you didn't mean to that's why you always come into the house unannounced without any regard for anyone else." Imelda sneered, stomping away from Ernesto with her head held high and her chin stuck proudly in the air. Ernesto rolled his eyes and huffed after Imelda, leaving his suitcase and guitar by the door. He came to a halt when he reached the kitchen and saw Hector cradling Coco.

Ernesto felt his blood begin to boil and his hands flexed into tight muscles. He could feel bile creep up his throat, making it burn. For a moment as Hector began to eye him Ernesto felt a flash of confusion at his anger. After all, why on Earth should a father holding his child cause so much rage? Shouldn't he be happy his closest (if not his only) friend had found such joy? Of course, he should be.

And yet… Ernesto couldn't ignore his thundering heart or how his face felt as if he had fallen in a pile of hot coals. The longer he stared at Hector, the hotter he felt. The truth of the matter was he could not stand the tender scene before him. It baffled Ernesto's mind how Hector was still so attached to his little demon of a wife or a person who was so tiny and helpless she couldn't be trusted to dress herself. There was only one thought that raced through his head as anger began to overwhelm all else;

" _The longer he stays trapped by that creature, the more our dreams slip away!"_

"Ernesto!" The musician jumped at the sound of his friend's voice, shaking away the nasty thoughts. It was only then that he noticed Imelda's icy scowl had become hostile. Hector stared at Ernesto with concern, his arms wrapped protectively around Coco who remained blissfully unaware. He blinked, panicking that his thoughts had somehow managed to escape his wired shut jaw.

"Are you okay amigo? You seem… I don't know disturbed." Hector whispered, keeping his voice soft and mellow. As if it was second nature Ernesto lifted his hands to his jacket and adjusted it, even though it sat perfectly on his broad shoulders. His lips curled into a brilliant, waxy smile.

"Sorry hermano, I don't know what came over me. But I'm afraid it's seven and we need to go." Ernesto said, his voice as jovial as his grin. Hector's notorious pout returned, his eyes full of irritation.

"The train doesn't leave until 8:00 right? Why do you even want to leave so early anyway?" He questioned, receiving a perplexed stare from Ernesto.

"Because you know we need to walk there and buy the tickets-which all takes time." Hector rolled his eyes, mumbling something under his breathe no one else could hear. He stretched his long legs and stood up. He went to Imelda and reluctantly handed over Coco. The toddler began to stir when she left the comfort of her father's arms, letting out a pitiful moan and fluttering her eyes. Hector smoothed her hair, soothing her back to slumber. When Hector was certain she wouldn't wake, he pulled Imelda close and closed the space between their lips. Imelda leaned into the kiss, savoring the feeling of butterflies flutter and dancing in her stomach. When they finally pulled away Hector brushed his long nose against her small nose, his lashes fluttering against her closed eyes.

"Mi vida, mi corazón y mi alma. Siempre." Hector whispered, his breath tickling Imelda's cheek. She took in a deep breath, trying to pay no heed the tears welling up in her eyes. In that moment only their slumbering daughter created space between them-which was as it should be. She stood on her toes and pressed her forehead against his, cherishing the closeness between them as she murmured

"Siempre." Hector reluctantly pulled away, creating a little extra space between them while keeping his arms around Imelda. His gaze turned to Coco, somehow managed to stay fast asleep. For the last time the bent down and placed a kiss on Coco's forehead and her cheeks.

"Papa loves you, so much. Don't ever forget that." He whispered, saying a silent prayer that she could hear him even in her slumber. He pulled Imelda closer, letting Coco be nestled between them. Even though Ernesto was scowling at them Hector gazed deeply into Imelda's eyes.

"Come home soon." Imelda pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. Hector leaned in and kissed her one last time, making Ernesto roll his eyes and cross his arms. He began to tap his foot though it didn't seem to distract or pull Hector away from Imelda. The young man continued to spend precious minutes smiling at his wife and peppering her face with kisses. All the while their little creature continued to slumber, unaware of the world around her. It was such a tender and picturesque moment; a young couple embracing and caressing with their daughter nestled between them.

It made him sick.

Deciding he had seen enough Ernesto marched towards his friend, ready to pull him away and drag him out of the home. His eyes zeroed in on his friends narrow back and messy black hair, briefly unaware of is surroundings. He walked straight into Hector's suitcase and suddenly felt himself falling forward, letting out a loud yelp as he landed with a thud. Finally, Hector's attention turned away from his family. He snapped his head and looked down at Ernesto full of concern and incredulity. The normal quaffed and dignified man laid sprawled on the floor, his hair falling into his coffee colored eyes. Ernesto immediately stood and began to run his fingers through his hair to push it out off his forehead. A miserable moan made him freeze, his heart dropping to his stomach. His eyes trailed to Imelda sure enough Coco was beginning to stir. She wriggled in her mother's arms and released another weary whimper, her eyes beginning to flutter. Ernesto's blood ran cold. His heart began to thunder with dread as Hector turned around and faced his daughter, reaching out to help Imelda sooth the waking child. His thoughts were screaming, ordering him to do one seemingly impossible task;

Get Hector out of the house before Coco woke up.

Without thinking Ernesto put his hands-on Hector's shoulders and gave them a hard squeeze.

''Hector you've said your goodbyes we need to go. Imelda can handle Coco" Ernesto exclaimed, pulling Hector away. The young man tried to dig in his heels, letting out a cry of agitation and bewilderment. Ernesto continued to lead him towards the door, only letting Hector go to pick up his guitar and suitcase. For a moment Ernesto thought he had succeeded. Coco continued to do nothing but whine in protest of being rudely woken up, and he had managed to get Hector to the door way. All there was left to do was give Hector his luggage and scoop up his own then-

"Papa?!" Ernesto felt Hector stiffen next to him and saw his head turn back towards the house.

"Papa!" Coco cried one more. Imelda cuddled Coco to her chest and stroked her hair, whispering sweet nothings as she swayed. Nothing seemed to work. She kept craning her head towards the door, tears pooling in her eyes and spilling down her face. Hector couldn't think of another time she looked more pitiful. Her cries pierced his heart, breaking it into little pieces. Every instinct cried for him to snake his way out of Ernesto's hold and rush back to his family. Surely his longest friend could spare a few scarce minutes to lull his bebita back to tranquility. Surely his brother in all but name wouldn't force him to leave his wife with a distraught child.

Ernesto would not show him such kindness. He thrusted the luggage in his hands, squeezed his bony shoulders tighter and thrusted him out the door.

"Papa!' Hector's stomach twisted into an excruciating knot, his chest becoming unbearably taut. He took a step forward, walking into Ernesto's broad chest. The door slammed with a thunderous bang, leaving Hector slack jawed as he gawked in horror at Ernesto.

"What the hell was that for?!" Hectored demanded. He received no response, only a cold stare through focused eyes. Coco continued to call for her Papa, her cries seeping through the closed through. Hector's eyes frantically switched back and forth from Ernesto to his home, the knots in his stomach becoming ever more excruciating and constricted.

"Let me go back Ernesto I can't leave Coco like this! I can't leave Imelda with Coco like this." He pleaded, taking a step to move around Ernesto. He felt a familiar pair of large hands grab the side of his arms and squeeze them tight. Before Hector could react, he was being heaved away from his home.

"Ernesto I swear to God!"

"You and I both know Imelda can handle herself. They will be fine. Right now all you need to worry about is the yourself, the music and the adventure we're setting off on."

* * *

"¡Muchas gracias mi familia! Y ahora, we'd like to end the show a personal favorite of ours."

"I think you mean a personal favorite of yours hermano." Hector chided, earning a ripple of chuckles from the audience. Ernesto flashed him his famous grin and let out a hardy laugh, throwing his arm around Hector's skinny frame.

"Perhaps but you're the one who wrote it." Ernesto exclaimed happily. Hector shrugged, trying his best to beam as brilliantly as his friend. The barrel chested singer was exuberant, brusting to the seems with charismatic energy. It, of course, had everything to do with the large crowd they managed to draw.

Those were the only nights Ernesto seemed truly invested in their work.

The audience was waiting with bated breath, their eyes glued on the young musician as they waited for the final song to begin. He counted to three, took a deep breath and let out the loudest grito he could. It rang and echoed through the night sky like a war cry. The crowd erupted in joyous cheers, causing Hector's heart race with exhilaration. He raised his arm high into the air and held it there for a moment, leaving the still with anticipation. With great flourish Hector dropped his and began to play his prized guitar. The crowd cheered once again, and Ernesto's voice filled the city sky.

 _Señoras y señores_

 _Buenas tardes, buenas noches_

 _Buenas tardes, buenas noches_

 _Señoritas y Señores_

 _To be here with you tonight_

 _Brings me joy que alegria_

 _For this music is my language_

 _And the world es mi familia_

 _For this music is my language_

 _And the world es mi Familia._

 _For this music is my language_

 _And the world es mi familia_

 _For this music is my language_

 _And the world es my familia!_

The audience exploded with cheers, their applause thundering. Hector sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes, soaking in the praise as Ernesto bowed.

Though he had gone embarked on this tour for fame and ovations, he had to admit in that moment he felt light as air.

But that moment would end the moment he stepped out of the spot light and back into reality.

For the first month or so the exhilaration of their growing success had kept buoyant after the first arduous night away from his family. The sound of Coco calling out for him and the image of her tear-filled eyes haunted him for the entire train ride. He would be lying if he didn't admit he had been swallowing tears the entire train ride. It was only when they were performing that Hector was able to push those memories aside and overlook his misery. Nothing else on earth mattered except his guitar and the music. It lifted his soul and carried him from one destination to other. Slowly but surely Hector began to enjoy the tour as much as Ernesto. He adored to see the smiles and glee and of a crowd after the performance, proud his music had touched so many. He loved the excitement of traveling to a different town every day and meeting a copious of new people and hearing their stories. Though he would never say as much out loud, it was refreshing to be Hector the musician instead of Hector the Papa. There were no little fingers poking at his cheek before the sun had begun to rise and no nightmares that needed tended to. The first few weeks he woke feel rejuvenated and more alive than ever.

Hector bit his lip as he gently placed his gleaming guitar in its case, guilt weighing down his shoulders. He gripped the case tightly turned towards Ernesto, his heart dropping into his stomach. There was his so-called friend, surrounded by a flock of beautiful ladies and laughing away. They gazed up at him as if he were a God among men. He eyed them with a ravenous smile and hungry eyes. Hector struggled to stifle a deafening groan and the urge to slap him across the face.

It was only a reminder of how, at least for Hector, their adventure had turned sour.

That rejuvenation and exhilaration he had felt throughout the first few weeks had quickly vanished, only relegated to the stage. When he woke in the morning he no longer felt ready to tackle the day but would be immediately besieged with incredulity and terror, unaware of where he was in an endless stream of cookie cutter hotel rooms. After the shows he would be barred from their room while Ernesto brought and faceless woman after faceless woman, doing heaven knows what while he was relegated to sitting in the lobby or wandering the streets. That is of course he wanted to join them in those acts-which he always declined no matter how many times Ernesto asked.

Those periods of solitude should have been a god sent, but they were nothing of the sort. It was in those moments he would crave and miss his family the most. He would long for the feeling of Imelda's thin fingers playing with his hair as she teased him from something idiotic he had done. He hankered for the sound of Imelda's voice filling the house as she worked. Though he had been grateful at first, he yearned for Coco's little fingers to poke his cheek. He longed for those midnight calls when some demon plagued her little dreams.

"Hector mi hermano!" Ernesto called. Hector turned around, forcing the beset smile he could. Ernesto and group walked towards them, all grins and laughter. They all painted a beautiful picture. Each girl was dressed in beautifully colored dresses, their hair twisted in various styles to expose their pretty faces. They gazed up at Hector (who appeared like a giant in comparison) with eyes full of awe. Hector felt all the blood in his body rush to his face, his heart thumping .

"Why so red amigo? I didn't think you were the type to be so flustered around such beautiful women." Ernesto chuckled, making the young women giggle in amusement. Hector let out a strangled laugh, turning his eyes down to his shoes and rubbing the bac of his neck.

"Well.. I…"

"Listen amigo we're going head back up to the room if you want to join us." If it was possible Hector felt his face become even hotter and redder. He was never an angry man, however in that moment he could feel his blood begin to boil. His usually kind eyes narrowed into aggravated silts. The smiles on the girls faces began to vanish, replaced by pale faced fear and incredulity.

"You don't like us Señor? We really loved you, you're fantastic. Please come with us." One of the braver of the girls said, fluttering her long eye lashes. Hector swallowed and let his hand fall to his side, his chest burning from his racing heart. The girls stared at him, waiting for him to respond to the girls gentle words. Despite their hopefully expressions and Ernesto's warning glare, Hector stood his ground. His muscles and face refused to relax, his blood continuing to boil with resentment.

"Thank you but I am married-so you all do… what ever it is you're going to do, and I'll be anywhere else but that room." Hector said, turning and marching away before the girls and Ernesto had a change to respond. Though he knew better, Hector glanced behind his shoulder to look at his friends. Ernesto's mouth was tight, his eyes full of fiery indignation. He stormed his way back to the hotel, so angry he could have sworn he saw steam spilling from his ears. For all the eyes staring at him as he marched through the streets of Mexico City there might as well have been steam pouring out of him. None of that matter to Hector. At that moment all he wanted to find a quiet place in the hotel lobby and write to his wife and daughter. It would never be the same as being able to run up and sweep them into a giant, tight embrace-nothing would ever come close. However, at the very least he would be able to release his frustrations on paper before they had a chance to manifest in other, much more unfortunate was.

The truth of the matter was, Hector was terrified of what his so-called friend would do if he ever found the strength to voice his grievances. If the anger splattered on his face was anything to go by, it would be better for Hector to stay tight lipped and suffer in silence.

Hector let out a deep sigh as he entered hotel, attempting to calm his pounding heart and cool his face. He slinked over to a small table and sat down, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a notebook and pen. As soon as the pen touched the rough paper the world around him began to melt away. All he could hear was the sound of a pen scratching against paper. All he could see were words beginning to fill the pages, documenting the status of this so called grand tour. It was as if nothing else mattered but this one letter. Once that letter was done he began to craft and much simpler, far cheerier letter for his daughter, taking the time to draw little drawings around the bottom corner. It was only once he signed that Hector allowed himself to return to reality, lifting his eyes from the paper. He carefully studied the lobby, allowing himself to re-enter the world.

The hotel was not what one could call fancy or high end. The furniture and decor were simple, the walls reminding him of the comfortable walls of his home. Though the room was small it felt very open and spacious. This was probably due to the how few souls dared to be up at such an hour. Hector could only marvel at how peaceful and

"Oi! Juan careful! A voice cried, cutting through the silence. Hector jumped and scanned the room, searching for the source of the voice or this Juan. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see a flash of brown hair sprinting towards him, chasing after a red ball. Hector's face twisted with bewilderment, silently wondering why a child was up at such an hour. He was not given much time to come to a logical conclusion. Both the boy and the ball were heading on a course straight to his guitar, sending a wave of panic throughout Hector. Right when the boy was he reach he knelt and placed his hands on his shoulders, making the child come to a screeching halt.

"¡Cuidado!" Hector cried, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he guitar had not been toppled over. He felt the boy stiffen under his shoulders at the sound of footsteps pounding the floor filled the small room. Hector looked up and found a short, graying small with angry, cat like eyes. His arms were crossed over his chest, his disappointed stare turned down at Juan.

"Hola abuelito." The boy chirped, his lips curled in a strained smile. His abuelito was not impressed. His fingers began to drum on his arm, his eye brows furrowing into one hard line.

"What did I tell you about running in the lobby?"

"Don't do it." Juan blinked, standing as straight as a solider.

"And what were you doing?"

"Running in the lobby."

Hector chuckled, standing to his full height. The old man's eyes trailed upward, widening the further he had to crane his neck. He pulled his grandson in close, his face becoming extremely apologetic.

"I am so sorry Señor Rivera I hope my grandson break anything important." He said glaring down at Juan. The boy shoulders hunched as he began to shrink into himself. Hector shook his head, giving the pair a kind and sympathetic smile.

"No harm no foul. I actually missed the sound of little feet running around." Hector's voice trailed off, his eyes becoming clouded with thought. He could clearly picture his little girl dashing around the house, her little feet puttering across the floor. He could hear her laughter filling their home, filling his heart with so much bliss. His fist balled into tight fist, and his stomach had turned into throbbing knots. The kindly aging man and his grandson were staring at him, faces colored with concern and tilted heads. Hector seemed unaware of this-the wheels in his mind turning faster and faster with each passing second.

What on Earth was he doing here?

Why was he standing in the middle of some strange hotel lobby in a city so far away from his home?

Why was he spending night after night banished from his own room while Ernesto had his fun-when it clear his partner had no real passion for the music that was their bread and butter. All he cared about was the cheers and adulation.

For the fist time since Hector had began embarking on fulling their musical fantasies as misguided teenagers, he began to face the cold hard truth that had been staring him in the face.

Ernesto did not care about him or the music he put so much time and effort into crafting. All he cherished was the fame and adoration.

The truth hit him like a pile of bricks, taking his breath away. His hands relaxed and his eyes grew impossibly wide. He quickly spun around and picked up his guitar, ignoring the concerned cries of the kindly abuelo. The letters he had poured heart into was carelessly left on the table, ready for anyone to read. The old man looked over his shoulder, calling out for Hector once more. It was too late to grab the musician's attention. He had already dashed up the stairs to his room, as if he was possessed. He turned back to the table, his eyes focused on the loose pieces of paper.

"Abuelito?" Juan asked, his voice full of confusion. He looked up at his grandfather, watching him with large eyes. The old man patted the top of his head before slowly walking out to the table. He lifted the papers and neatly folded them, preparing to put them in his pocket. The entrance door suddenly slammed open, slamming with a loud bang. The old man jumped, his grip tightening around the letters as he grandson ran and hugged his legs.

Standing in the door way was a tall, broad shouldered and barrel-chested man. He was clutching a mariachi hat, his nails digging into the large brim. He was frantically eyeing the door, as if he to was surprised by the loud crash. The old man gently pushed Juan behind him, attempting to shield him from this confused and enraged man.

"Señor? Is everything okay?" The mariachi snapped his head towards this old man, a startled expression coloring his face. He ran his fingers through his thick brunette hair, pushing back what ever loose strands there may have been. His hands went to his jacket, holding it tight as he feigned a kind smile.

"Lo siento mucho, it must have been the wind." He claimed. The old man nodded, his features a blank veil hiding his growing worry and suspicion. When he didn't respond, the mariachi walked forward, flashing the best grin he could.

"You wouldn't happen to know if my partner has returned?"

"The really tall man with the funny nose and giant ears?" Juan asked, peering around his grandfather's stout legs. Ernesto nodded, making the boy smile with pride.

"Si that's the one!'

"He ran up to his room


	4. NO HAY BIEN PT 2

**AN: HELLO MY LOVELIES! I'M SO GLAD YOU ALL ENJOYED THE THIRD CHAPTER! IT WASN'T WHAT I HAD EXPECTED IT TO BE BUT I AM PROUD OF HOW IT CAME OUT! YOUR SUPPORT TRULY MEANS THE WORLD TO ME AND KEEPS ME GOING SO THANK YOU SO MIUCH 3**

 **AND NOW… I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN WITH THIS CHAPTER.**

 **I ALWAYS WRITE THESE BEFORE I GET INTO THE CHAPTER AND I CAN ALREADY TELL YOU THIS WAS NO EASY FOR ME TO WRITE. I'VE NEVER WRITTEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS BEFORE… AND I CAN ONLY HOPE I DO IT JUSTICE.**

 **SERIOUSLY I WATCHED A CERTAIN SCENE OVER AND OVER AGAIN, AND PAUSED IT EVERY FEW SECONDS TO MAKE SURE I GOT THE DETAILS RIGHT.**

 **SO WITHOUT FURTHER OR DUE I GIVE YOU CHAPTER FOUR!**

 **AS ALWAYS PLEASE ENJOY AND PRETTY PLEASE REVIEW! I PROMISE I DON'T BITE AND I'LL EVEN RESPOND :D**

 **DISCLAIMER:**

 ***BAILF WALKS UP AND WITH BIBLE IN HANDS, I PUT MY RIGHT HAND ON MY HEART AND THE OTHER HAND ON THE BIBLE***

 **BAILF: EJM513, DO YOU SWEAR THAT YOU DO NOT OWN COCO OR ANYTHING RELATED TO COCO?**

 **EJM513: I DO-NOW CAN YOU PLEASE STOP SENDING THE SCARY MEN IN BLACK AFTER ME?**

 **BAILF: NO**

 **EJM513: OH COME ON!**

~NO HAY BIEN~

~PT.2~

Hector scurried frantically around the small hotel room, his bony hands gripping every piece of fabric, every item that he recognized as his. He tossed them carelessly in his suit, unconcerned by how wrinkled and crumbled they would look. The state of his clothing was on the very bottom of his list of concerns-no matter how vexed his diosa would be. There was only one thought, one matter and one goal racing through his mind as he dashed around the room.

Pack his suitcase, take his guitar and slip away into the night before Ernesto returned.

It was a simple, but brilliant plan as far as Hector was concerned-one he had concocted on his mad dash to his room. He would leave and Ernesto would be none the wiser. It was perfect.

Hector froze as he reminded himself of the soundness of his plan, his fingers nails digging into the shirt he was gripping. All his thoughts began to swim and swirl together, turning into a muddled and violent scream. He began to notice how dangerously face his heart was beating, how his chest was burning. His shoulders slumped as he huffed to the bed, tossing the shirt into his open suitcase. He sat with a loud groan, closed his eyes and buried his face into his hands.

The screaming in his head slowly began to disappearing, turning into a soft and relentless whisper reminding him that he was indeed wrong.

It did not matter how many times Hector had convinced himself otherwise, his plan was far from perfect. Though he would ever say as such out loud it was conceived in a haze of fear-fear of what Ernesto would do if he knew how Hector truly felt. As he sat there, letting his heart beat slow and the screaming in his head disappear, it became painfully obvious he was taking the cowards way out. Not only that, but his plan was flawed beyond on all measure.

Sure he could slip away under Ernesto's nose, but it would buy him no safety. There was only one place Hector would go, and Ernesto would all to quickly find him. Hector could picture the barely restrained furry painted on Ernesto's features all to clearly, sending a shock of fear climbing up his spine. It felt as if an army of tiny knifes was pricking at his spine, filling Hector with the urge to leap out of his skin. The unrelenting whispering morphed into a clear, definite voice. It spoke one simple phrase;

" _You are a coward"_

Hector felt a flash of anger surge through him. It was so powerful it busted out of his mouth with a loud

"NO!"

Hector Rivera was many things; a husband, a father, a musician, muy guapo and hard working. If there was one thing he wasn't, it was a coward. His fingers dug deeper into his temples. He breathed in deeply, letting it fully escape as his nerves finally began to settle. At that moment his path forward became clear.

He would leave tonight as intended, but he would not sneak away in the cloak of night like a criminal. He was no criminal. He was no rat. Hector would confront Ernesto, pour out what he had been holding back and walk away with his head held high. Hector rolled his shoulders and puffed out his chest, holding his head as high as he could. A strange rush of courage overtook him, his heart filling with fiery courage he hadn't felt since his foolish attempts to woo Imelda. His lips curled into a definite sneer, his eyes filling with a long-forgotten confidence.

" _Let Ernesto scream and whine. Let him make all the threats he wants. Nothing is going to change my mind. I'm not sc"_

"HECTOR!"

Crash! The door swung open and crashed against the wall with a violent slam, threatening to shake the small room. Hector jumped and let out a yelp, his once confident stance replaced with hunched shoulders and a hand over his racing heart.

"¡Mierda Tito! You scared me!" Hector hissed, straightening his posture and turning his attention to his companion. Whatever confidence he still possessed dissipated the moment he locked eyes on Ernesto. His chiseled features were twisted with unbridled rage, his olive skin flushing a vivid scarlet. He nostrils were flaring like a wild bull, his large hands balled into tight fist. His coffee colored eyes were glazed over, as if he was seeing nothing but red. Hector felt his blood begin to run cold, his breathe vanishing and his chest becoming tight. He could have sworn he felt his heart stop for a moment as Ernesto continued to burrow his eyes into Hector. There was nothing left for him to but swallow the terror clawing at him, and pray it would stay at bay.

For the moment it seemed to work. Hector's thin features became contorted with agitation, his eyes. narrowing to match Ernesto's.

"What on earth is wrong with you? Why are you storming around like an angry bull? People are trying to sleep you know." Hector questioned as Ernesto shut the door, his blind furry still etched on his handsome features. The gangly man could only be thankful Ernesto could see nothing but his own self-righteous anger.

It meant he couldn't see the suitcase sitting proudly on his bed.

"I could ask you the same thing hermano! You almost ruined my chance with those girls with your whole "I'm married" mierda!" Hector crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the bed. One of his eyebrows inditched up to his hair line.

"Almost ruined? Did I ruin it?"

"Well…. No…." For a brief moment Ernesto's anger deflated, replaced with a stubborn glare.

"Then what is your problem?!" Hector demanded, throwing his long arms into the air and crossed them once more. Ernesto's bull like rage returned once more. His barreled chest huffed as he charged towards Hector, his eyes once again glossing over with furry. He didn't stop until he was so close that Hector could feel his hot breath blow on him. He could see each little hair on his mustache. Hector attempted to step away, but the barrel chested singer would not have it. He followed Hector's steps, blocking any attempt Hector had to escape.

"My problem is you!" Ernesto hissed, jabbing his finger into Hector's chest. He spun around with a huff, thrusting his hands on his hips as he began to pace the room. Hector could only gawk at the manic singer. His body began to grow hot. His thoughts began to violently swirl, attempting to follow the logic that made Ernesto make such a bold claim. When he couldn't Hector started to seethe, his own eyes beginning to glaze over with red fury.

"Me?!" Hector exclaimed, taking a long step forward towards his pacing partner. Ernesto ceased his marching at the sound of Hector's whip like voice. He spun around and once more found himself inches away from the taller guitarist.

"Yes! Not do you CONSTANTLY damper my chances with women"

"Oh please!" Hector groaned, turning his back to Ernesto and glaring at his suitcase. His heart continued to race, his face burning with anger. Ernesto continued to rage on, listing off all of Hector's faults. For his part, Hector attempted to ignore his harsh words. He looked up at the ceiling, noting each little imperfection as he let Ernesto's words bounce off the back of his head.

"You're a downer!" Ernesto exclaimed.

"Sure I am." Hector muttered.

"You're never happy unless you're on stage! You're heart isn't in this tour and hasn't been for a long time!" Ernesto cried.

"Whatever you say Ernesto." Hector sighed, his agitation growing by the second.

"All you seem to care is your STUPID familia!" Ernesto roared, his voice bouncing off the thin walls. He fell deadly silent after that, breathing heavily as the weight of his words began to down on him. It was far too late. Every inch of Hector's body tensed. His chest began to heave as his breathing became rapid and labored. His dark eyes widened with shock. A frigid numbness washed over his entire body, slowing everything down. Ernesto's hate filled words continued to ring in his head, slowly melting the ice that had filled his chest.

 _All you seem to care about is your STUPID family!_

The thin thread that had been holding Hector grew weaker and weak with each passing second. His heart felt painfully heavy, his chest uncomfortably tight. He closed his eyes, ignoring Ernesto desperate pleas and apologies. The more words spewed out of his thin lips, the tighter his lungs became and the further his heart sank. Ernesto venom filled roar refused to cease, deafening whatever kind words and excuses he was uttering at that moment.

Nothing Ernesto could say would change anything. His justifications and instance his words held no meaning were as hallow and fake as his smile. The suave singer had unintentionally proved what Hector had chosen to discount and ignore for far too long.

He had changed, and Ernesto could not or would not accept it.

"Hector… please look at me." Ernesto pleaded, placing his hand on his shoulder. The moment he felt Ernesto's touch Hector reached up and thrusted his hand off, stunning the singer. He looked over his shoulder at his friend, his face contorted with ice cold anger. Ernesto stepped back and held his hands in front of him, as if he was faced with a wild beast he had poked. One wrong step, one wrong word and the beast would pounce. The room filled with thick tension as the musicians locked eyes with each other; one sculpted face colored with shock and fear, one thin face warped with anger. Neither dared to move or look away from each other, letting the tension continue to rise until it threatened to suffocate them both. It was Ernesto who dared to cut through the tension. He took a slow step forward, reaching for his friend. Hector turned his head back to his suitcase, refusing to look at those regret filled eyes.

"Hector.." Ernesto said, his voice full of caution. The gangly musician gaze trailed to his faded red song book. He reached forward and picked it up, holding it carefully in his hands as he opened it. As if God was sending him a single he had opened to _The World Es Mi Familia_. Hector could only stare at the words, a fresh sting of an indescribable emotion surging through him. The words sneered and taunted him. Though Hector had written the song, it's conception had been Ernesto's. Ever since they were young boys fighting for their survival, Ernesto had always claimed their lives would change one day. They may have been penniless orphans, but he swore they would have a family far bigger than they or any mere mortal could comprehend.

The entire world would be their family.

The idea was powerful, intoxicating Hector and keeping him a float for many years. He believed deep within heart he would feel no more loneliness, no longer crave human touch or affection. The whole world would love them and be the family they never had.

As Hector stared at the words, the very idea that had once driven him made his stomach twist and his heart ache. For whatever reason he had been blessed with a real family-and it was far better than Ernesto's twisted version of a family. A crowd of nameless faces paled in comparison to his wife's glowing smile when she laughed. All the cheers and adulations would never compete with the sound of his little girl calling him Papa and giggling as he sang. Ever since Imelda and Coco had entered his life, Hector had finally achieved what he had craved for so long-love and affection.

The world may be Ernesto's familia, but Hector's familia was his world.

"Mi hermano por favor, I am so sorry. That was out of line. Please let's just start over and

"I'm done Ernesto." Hector stated, his voice even and lacking true emotion. A heavy silence fell over the room as Ernesto let the words play in his head, unable to fully comprehend him. His lips curled into a strained smile, a tight couple filling the room.

"Very funny Hector but let's be serious." Hector looked over his shoulder, his expressionless face masking his racing heart and bursting chest. Ernesto's smile faded before Hector had uttered a single word, panic flashing in his eyes.

"I'm done Ernesto. I'm going home to my wife and child." Hector proclaimed, his voice strong and even. He turned his attention back to his song book as Ernesto's mouth dropped to the floor. He glanced over the song one more time. The simple melody dance through his head while his friend gawked at him, waiting for a punchline or laughter that never came.

"You…. You... You really are serious. Look if this is about what I said I don't know how many times I have to apologize but I am really sorry. Don't go because I said something stupid." The words seemed to flow straight through Hector. Silence fell over the pair once more, intolerable panic building in Ernesto's chest as Hector remained frozen. His eyes were glued onto Hector, waiting for any movement, praying he was having second thoughts. When the gangly musician moved, he closed the small book in his hands and tossed it on top of his close. Ernesto's jaw once more became unhinged as Hector bent down and closed his suitcase, latching it shut with two clicks.

As far as Ernesto they were no different than two gun shots.

"You want to give up now?! When we're _this_ close to reaching our dream?" Ernesto demanded, his voice full of desperation. Hector slid the suitcase off the bed, picked up his guitar and walked towards the door, Ernesto following his every step as his spoke. Hector stopped short of the door and turned towards Ernesto, coming face to face with his unnerved filled expression.

"This was _your_ dream. You'll manage" Hector replied coolly, turning back towards the door and taking another step. Ernesto felt his stomach twist in knots, his nerves shooting on edge and his body beginning to seethe.

"I can't do this without your songs Hector!" Ernesto lunged towards Hector's, grabbing hold of his suitcase and pulling his towards him. Hector twisted around to face Ernesto once more, his eyes narrow with agitation. A new flash of anger surged through him, bolstering the confidence that had been fueling him. He yanked the suitcase out of Ernesto's hand and looked him square in the eye.

"I'm going home, Ernesto. Hate me if you want but my mind is made up." Hector said, turning his back to Ernesto and walking towards the door.

This proved to be the first in a series dangerous mistakes Hector would make that night.

He could not see Ernesto's chest huffing as he breathed heavily, anger coursing through his body. He could not see the wrath contorted Ernesto's handsome features, or how his eyes became hazy with rage once more.

He could not hear the gears in Ernesto's head churning, causing his furry filled expression to smooth into cold calculation in the mere seconds it took for Hector to open the door.

"Oh I could never hate you." Ernesto said and Hector was about to step out the room, his voice smooth and full of adoration. Once more Hector turned his head towards Ernesto, staring at his friend with a stubborn expression. He was greeted with a sight he had seen a million times before-Ernesto flaunting his famous smile as he held on to the lapel on his jacket. That smile always had an irritating habit of breaking down any wall he tried to put between them.

Though it aggravated Hector to no end, he could feel his wall of definite indifference beginning to crack.

"If you must go, then I'm sending you off with a toast!" Ernesto proclaimed, turning towards a small night that housed a bottle of toquilla and two shot glasses.

"To our friendship!" Ernesto claimed as he poured the clear liquid. Hector turned his gaze back towards the open door, considering Ernesto's request.

This was the second of Hector's three mortal errors of judgement.

He did not see Ernesto poor the drinks.

" _I know I should just leave… BBBBBUUUUTTT I do love toquilla. One toast wont hurt anything-right?"_

Hector looked back at his friend, his face colored with defeat. He turned away from the door and accepted defeat.

"I would move Heaven and Earth for you, mi amigo!" Ernesto declared as he moved to Hector, glasses in hand. The gawky musician set down his suitcase, his lips stretching into a calm smile.

"¡Salud!"

The two friends raised their glasses and tapped them together with a clink. Hector closed his eyes, leaned his head back and swallowed.

This was the third and final fatal oversight Hector made that fateful December night. He could not see Ernesto's hard features and dark eyes as he sipped his own drink. All he noticed was the familiar burning sensation trickling down his throat, sending his nerves a blaze. Hector's opened his eyes and widened his smile. He stepped around Ernesto and placed the glass top side down. Ernest gently rested the glass on its bottom, carefully watching Hector as he lifted his suit case once more. When his friend grinned back at him, his eyes full of gratitude and compassion, Ernesto mirrored that friendly smile. He let out a chuckle and put his arm around Hector's thin shoulders, pulling him close and rubbing his bony arm.

"Come on amigo. Let's get you back to your family!" Hector nodded, his eyes glowing and his smile melting into a beam as Ernesto lead him out of their room. His heart was singing. Little butterflies fluttered about and tickled his stomach. He felt as if he was walking on a cloud instead of hard wooden stairs. He hardly seemed aware of his surrounding, his mind far away in Santa Cecilia. He could already feel Coco's little hands on his cheeks as she held tightly to his face. He could already see her large, dark eyes staring intently into his, as if what she had to say was of the upmost importance. He could feel Imelda's fingers stroking his hair and trailed down his cheek bone. He could taste her lips against his, sending him soaring higher and higher.

Soon enough those sensations wouldn't be a mere memory or something to be longed for. Soon enough he would have to two loves of his life in his arms once more, and all would be right with the word.

"Oh Señor Rivera there you are!" A familiar voice called, snapping Hector out of his head. He turned to the sound of the voice, and found the kindly old man who had been chasing his grandson earlier sitting behind a long wooden counter. Hector couldn't help but to beam at the man. Despite being in his 60's Señor Gomez diligently ran his little hotel with seemingly little help from those around him. He had had been nothing but the epitome of kindness to him-and if Hector was being honest he would miss seeing those gentle eyes and smile.

"Hola Señor Gomez! Where's that little nieto of yours?" Señor Gomez crossed his arms and rolled his eyes and let out an agitation groan.

"In bed-finally. I swear he is too much like his father… anyway you left your letters down here Señor Rivera. I have them right here if you still want them." Señor Gomez explained, reaching to pick up the letters in question. Hector laughed, making the old man stand to attention and stare at him with a puzzled expression.

"Don't worry about the letters, I'll get home before they do." Hector said. Señor Gomez craned his neck over the counter, his eyes growing wide at the sight of the luggage in Hector's thin hands. His face spilt into wide smile, his eyes radiating joy.

"¡Ay que maravilloso! You'll be back just in time for Posadas and La Noche Buena!" Hector nodded, rocking on his heels as if he was an excited child. Ernesto let go of Hector and crossed his arms, drumming his fingers agents his arms. His foot began to tap and his eyes scanned the room. Every inch of his body screamed to get out of that god forsaken hotel, to get Hector away from any eyes but his own.

But Señor Gomez… dear, sweet, idiotic Señor Gomez had to open his mouth.

"¡Si! I missed my little girl's birthday unfortunately but at least I'll be home soon and give her the biggest hug! And my wife… ay dios mios what I will do when I finally see"

"All right Hector I think poor Señor Gomez has heard enough-besides you don't want to miss your train right?" Ernesto quipped, letting out a strained chuckle. Hector's eyes brows raised to his hair line, his dark eyes sparked with realization that he was indeed wasting time. He happily let Ernesto drag him away, once again feeling as if he were walking on clouds. He glanced over his shoulder, beaming at Señor Gomez one last time.

"¡Adios Señor Gomez! Muchas gracias por todo. Please tell Juan Feliz Navidad for me!" Hector called, his voice ringing in the small lobby as Ernesto shoved him out the door.

For many years to come, Ernesto would remember how perfect that December night was. The air was crisp, nipping at their cheeks and noses and sending chills through their bodies despite their thick jackets. It cold enough that as they spoke and laughed their breath came out in thin wisp, entrancing his partner. As if God was smiling down upon him, the entire city seemed barren. No other soul seemed willing to venture out into the frigid darkness. An eerie blanket of silence hung in the air. The only sounds that could be heard were the clanking of their boots on the hard coble stone streets and their boisterous laughter. Only the occasional street lamp and the millions of stars above them lit their path. It was as if they were the only two souls in the entire city.

It was indeed absolutely

"Perfect!" Hector exclaimed, making Ernesto jump and fall out of his thoughts. His snapped towards his friend, his face colored with surprise and confusion. He immediately brought his hand to his coat and cleared his throat, his lips twisting into his famous smile.

"Sorry amigo I didn't quiet catch that." Ernesto laughed, earning an eye role and a dark chuckle from Hector.

"I was just saying this night is perfect." Hector said, glancing up at the sea of shimmering stars. Ernesto felt the corner of his lips begin to twitch, threatening to make his grin disappear. He chuckled, hoping it would keep his smile intact. His heart was beating far faster than it should be. A giant lump sat squarely in his chest, making it feel far tauter than it should be. He kept watching Hector, but nothing seemed to change. He still had an ear to earn grin on his face and was radiating joy. In fact, as far as Ernesto was concerned he appeared to be glowing. Regardless of his effort Ernesto felt his smile fading, and the lump from his chest migration to his throat.

" _Oh no… What if…_

Hector looked down from the sky, giving Ernesto all the motivation he needed to hold his jovial appearance. The taller musician kept his gaze, his eyes glowing when he noticed a large, black train in the distance. It's whistle blew proudly as steam poured out of its smoke stack. His heart began to race with elation. The butterflies in his stomach began to dance faster and faster, tickling his stomach far more than he would have liked. He could ignore them though.

His train was right there. He was finally going home.

Hector looked away from the ebony locomotive for a moment to glance at Ernesto, giving him a smile full of gratitude. His soul felt lighter than air, and a wave of peace crashed over him for the first time in months. His fears had been in vain, an evil conjuring of his over active imagination. He was finally being set free, able to return to the loving embrace of his family with his best friend by his side. There was only one thing that could damper his experience. The butterflies dancing around in his stomach grew far more numerous and intense. The delightful tickle had morphed into an uncomfortable surge nausea and cramps gripping at his stomach. Hector's smile began to fade as he blinked, brushing off the unpleasant sensation as a bundle of unnecessary nerves.

There were more important things he needed to tackle first.

"You know hermano I just wanted to say thank you again so much for being so-AAARAAH!"

Hector's long stride came to a sudden halt. His long face twisted and contorted in agony, his eyes appearing as if they were going to burst out of his head. The wave of nausea and cramps had exploded into a monster ravaging his body. Its claws dug into his stomach, feeling like a thousand knifes as it tore apart his stomach piece by piece. Hector's long frame lurched forward, his shoulders hunched as he wrapped his arm around his torso. The pain refused to stop, consuming all his senses. His chest fighter tighter and tighter with each passing second the agony raged on, as if the air couldn't escape fast enough. Everything around him began to blur. The line of buildings, the rough stones beneath him, even his own ebony boots appeared farther and farther away. All he was aware of was the agony that refused to cease.

"Maybe it was the chorizo my friend." Ernesto said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. His voice sounded so faint and blurred, as if he were miles away. It was pleasant though… far too pleasant. Hector felt something being pulled from his hand-what it was he wasn't sure. The world around him was fading into a cloud of darkness. Something inside of him roared to keep moving-he had to keep moving. He took one, shaky step forward, his suitcase slipping from his hand and landing on the ground with a thud, causing it to swing open. His legs began to buckle, shaking under the weight of having to hold him his lanky frame. The street began to disappear. He collapsed to his knees, his shoulders lurching forward as the world slipped into total darkness. As if he were a puppet whose strings had been cut he fell forward, his face crashing on the hard cobble stones.

Ernesto watched with a cold, distant face. He placed the guitar down and slowly made his way to Hector, his eyes swiveling from side to side to ensure he was truly alone. When it was clear no one had seen what happened, he knelt down and examined Hector. He laid motionless on the cold street, his back rising and falling ever so slightly. Ernesto felt agitation burn in his chest. He lifted Hector's thin hand and held his wrist. Though it was faint he could feel a gentle beat tapping at his thumb. Ernesto's eyes widened in shock, his face twisting with incredulity.

"¡Hijo de puta!" Ernesto hissed, thrusting Hector's limp hand back to the ground. His heart began to fill with panic, his mind racing to find a solution. He examined his surroundings, his eyes wild with desperation. His searching came to a stop when he laid eyes upon a long, dark ally. Ernesto's lips curled into a triumphant smile. He inspected his surroundings once more and when he deemed it safe he hefted Hector's body into his arms.

Though he was-much to Ernesto's aggravation- still alive, he was nothing more than a rag doll in his arms. His face was a broken mess; blood poured from his forehead and his now crooked nose, and Ernesto could have sworn at least two teeth had fallen out of his jaw. Those were all minor details that were better left unnoticed. Working with great speed Ernesto dragged Hector's long body along the street, slipping like a bat into the dark ally. He went in as deep as he could and released the limp body, letting Hector crumple to the groan. Ernesto held his breath, half excepting a low groan to slip through Hector's thin lips. When there was no sound he bent down once more and checked for a pulse.

Nada.

Hector Rivera was gone.

Ernesto dashed out of the ally, heading for the suitcase that laid open on the dimly lit streets. Nestled in a mess of clothing was Hector's small red book. He wasted no time snatching it, relishing the sensation of the rough leather in his hands. He opened the cover and flipped through the pages, ultimately stopping on one song that had caught his eye.

 _Remember Me._

 _Tenderly, Rubito._

Ernesto's snake like smile reappeared as he rapidly scanned the song before slipping it in his coat. He closed Hector's suit case and bolted to the ally with it. He dropped it by Hector's body, not caring that it flew open once more. His cold eyes glanced down at Hector's lifeless body, his face devoid of any emotion. He leaned towards the body and riffled through is pockets. He pulled the small amount of money from one pocket, a drawing Coco had made and a ticket out of Mexico City. A whistle blew into the night guy, making Ernesto spin around. In the distance he could hear the train beginning to clack along the tracks, taking away his way out. He looked down at the train ticket and glared, growling as he ripped it into tiny pieces. With cold anger flowing through his body Ernesto tore every piece of paper he had found on Hector-whether it had been in his pocket or in his suitcase. He couldn't be sure there was anything that could identify the body if and when it was found-but Ernesto would take no chances. When he was down he glared at the lifeless body. He gave it a soft kick and leaned towards the body one last time.

"Lo siento mucho mi amigo, but I'm afraid you brought this on yourself." He said, his voice low and icy. He left the ally for the final time, picked up Hector's guitar and headed back to the hotel.

* * *

There were many perks to owning and running a small hotel. There were only so many guests you could tend to, which made it far simpler to manage. You could truly make a personal connection with your patrons and truly ensure their comfort.

It also meant that there were times you could not afford to have extra help-which meant you were responsible for some of the most mundane task.

Unfortunately for Señor Gomez he was in that situation.

Despite his age Señor Gomez walked up the stairs towards the rooms. He walked down the hallway, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. Every muscle in his body called for him to sink into bed or at the very least get off his aching feet. There was no rest for the wicked down. He floated in and out of the empty rooms, confirming they were neat and orderly for the next occupant. Each room was quiet and serine, making him grin with pleasure.

Inevitably Señor Gomez same to the room Hector Rivera and Ernesto De la Cruz had been sleeping from the past two nights. The door had been left carelessly open, exposing the room for the world to see. On the small bed side table there were bottles of alcohol and two shot glasses-one sitting on its bottom and the other turned on to its top. Señor Gomez blinked, his lips twitching at the sight. He could see neither of the beds had been made since they had last been slept in. His shoulders hunched forward as a let out a weary huff of air. He dragged himself into the room began the mundane task. He grumbled to himself as he straightened the sheets, smoothed the blankets and fluffed the pillows on the first bed.

"I shouldn't be doing this. Someone else-preferably mi pendejo of a son- should be doing this. But NNNNNOOOOO he has to be out god knows where doing god knows what!" Señor Gomez spat as he finished the first of the two beds. He stepped back, brought his hand to his chin and examined his work. The corners were tight, the blankets fell evenly over the bed and the pillows were fluffed to perfection. A glimmer of pride sparkled in his eyes, poking a hole in his aggravated façade. With a nod of approval, he turned to the next bed and began to fix the sheets. He stood on the left side of the bed and pulled the sheets taught, his eyebrows furrowing in agitation. He shuffled to the other side of the bed and grabbed the sheets. As he stepped back to pull them he knocked into the little table beside the bed. The table tipped, causing the bottles and glasses to slid off its surface. Señor Goemz spun and grabbed the table to keep it from falling over but it was too late. One by one the bottles and glasses crashed to the floor, shattering in little shards all over the room. The alcohol that had once been inside spread all over the floor, reaching the tips of Señor Gomez's brown shoes.

The old man gawked at the sigh before him, his heart and blood beginning to race as his agitation boiled in anger. He slapped his hand against his face and dragged it down, releasing a tired groan.

"When I see Auturo…" He growled, stepping around the pool of alcohol and fragments of glass, his hands bumping into tight fist. When he was safely by the door had examined the damage that had been done. As he simmered over having to dig out broom when he would rather be slumbering away, he noticed something odd. In the midst of the glass and pool of alcohol was a small, white box. It laid face down in the debris, obscuring its label. Señor Gomez looked over his shoulder, biting his lip and letting out a loud breath. He knew he needed to ignore the box for now, find a broom and clean up the room before Ernesto returned.

Curiosity, it seemed, overpowered all common sense. He carefully step towards the box, his eyes glued to the field of glass around his feet. He lifted the with box with great caution, holding it between two fingers as alcohol dripped off its smooth surface. When he felt it was dry enough he held it both hands. He ran his thumbs over the hard surface and stared at it. His weary eyes were immediately draw to the largest text;

 _DO NOT CONSUME!_

Señor Gomez's raised one of his eyebrows, his heart rate slowly increasing. He turned the box over and felt his heart stop all together and is blood run cold.

Inscribed on the box in scarlet letters was Rat Poison. His hands shook his eyes trailed to the top of the box and realized it was open.

"Ay Santa Maria…." Señor Gomez gasped, his stomach churning with terror. His wrinkled fingers gripped the box, his heart beginning to race dangerously fast. He stumbled backwards in shock, oblivious to the cracking glass beneath his feet. His mind was spinning a million miles a minute, trying to process what he had found and what he meant.

One of the two-and he doubted it was Hector-had brought rat poison and had carefully hid it behind bottles of alcohol. One of the two-again he doubted it was Hector-had used the poison… and he suspected it wasn't on a rat.

His heart stopped once more and his stomach lurched, his hands violently trembly as he stared at the box. His instincts went into overdrive, his wild thoughts become controlled and methodical. He needed to get to the police before Ernesto returned and caught wind and believed he had been cornered. He needed to pray with all his might; pray that he was wrong, pray that if he wasn't Hector would be found and somehow abled to be saved.

"What are you doing in here?!"

Señor Gomez jumped, letting out a yelp of surprise. The box fumbled in his hands, threatening to tumble out of his hands and crashed on the floor. He heaved in a deep breath and blinked, giving himself a moment to school his features. When his heart rate and breathing slowed he turned to face Ernesto. The young musician stood in the doorway, his face distorted with confusion and hostility. Señor Gomez felt his heart sink straight to his stomach and his breath vanish at the sight of him. Held tightly in his hand in his hand was a strikingly familiar guitar case-a guitar take he had last seen in Hector hands.

"This is my hotel Señor De la Cruz-you have no right to question me. You were the one that left the door open and I came in the straighten up and I found this." He said, shocked by how forceful his voice was. Ernesto staid in the door frame, incredulity flashing over his face as Señor Gomez walked up to him, his expression defiant and stubborn. He held the box up to the musicians and watched as Ernesto's hostile eyes became wide with shock and fear. The young man remained mute, never taking his eyes away from the small box.

"Where did you…"

"I know this was used-the box is open and I'm pretty sure you didn't use it on any rats because you would have been the first to whine about it if there were any! Now what did you do you? What did you do to your partner?" Señor Gomez demanded, growing ever more confident. Ernesto's terror began to melt away into an cold, angry aura. He remained mute, burrowing his dark eyes into the old man. For his part Señor Gomez refused to be swayed or terrified. He stood as tall as his small stature would allow, his shoulders rolled back, his head held high and his eyes narrowed in defiance.

"Where is he?"

"That is none of your concern." Ernesto spoke, his voice dripping with ice. He puffed out his chest and leaned closer to Señor Gomez, but the man continued to hold form and glare straight into his agitated eyes.

"It is my concern señor! If you mur" Ernesto lunged into the room and slammed the door behind him before Señor Gomez could finish is sentence. The old man jumped back, pressing himself against the bed. Ernesto moved towards him, his body taut with rage and his face contorted with what could only be described as a dangerous expression. Señor Gomez felt his courage and confidence drain the closer the bull like musician got. His heart pounded harder and harder, his body began to quake despite his attempt to stay collected.

It was hard to not feel the fear of God when a monster was standing right before you, his hostile eyes glaring deep into his own.

Ernesto moved so close to Señor Gomez the old man could see each little hard on his mustache. He leaned back to put some distance between them, threatening to tumble on to the bed. Ernesto's eyes moved to the box in his hands and snatched it and held it securely in his large hand. His trailed his back up to Señor Gomez and snarled as he grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

"Listen to me and listen to me good old man because I will only say this once. I am going to hide this poison in my suitcase and I'm going to go to a bar and get a drink. You're going to get a broom and clean up this mess YOU made-as well as compensate for my alcohol. Then you're going to go bed and when morning comes I'll be on the next train out of Mexico City. When someone inevitably finds the body you will stay quiet and most important you will burn those letters that pendejo wrote that that puta and little creature-do you understand me?"

Señor Gomez gulped, his eyes budging with terror. His face was ashen and his heart was throbbing so loudly he feared it was burst right out of his chest. His stomach was a twisted, lump filled maze. Yet he did not dare look away from Ernesto. He held his threatening gaze, praying the man couldn't heart his heart of feel is trembling. He swallowed hard once more and spoke in a daring whisper.

"And what are you going to do if I head straight to the police as soon as you leave?" Ernesto's nostrils flared, his frigid aurora burning into raging furry. He lifted the man off his feet and pulled him an inch away from his face. Señor Gomez could smell the liquor and fire on his hot breath.

"I will frame you-I will make your life a living nightmare and don't forget I just killed a man to get what I wanted, I'm not afraid to do it again. It would be such a shame if something happened to your grandson."

"Don't. You. Dare!"

"Then keep your mouth shut and do as I say!" Ernesto bellowed, throwing Señor Gomez against the bed. The hold man gasped and pain surged through him and his breathed was knocked away. He gripped to the sides of the mattress as Ernesto stormed to the door. A question burned in the back of his throat, making its way to his lips. He knew it would be suicidal to even think of speaking at this moment, but his vocal chords and mouth seemed to have a mind of their own.

"Why did you do it?" He asked, causing Ernesto to freeze as his hand hoovered over the door knob. The musician turned his head over his shoulder and glared at him, his eyes brimming with irritation.

"Tell me why you did it and I'll keep my mouth shut." Ernesto looked down at the shards of broken glass and the pool of alcohol, his irritation expression growing frostier and unemotional with each passing second. Señor Gomez held his breathe and stood perfectly still against the bed, too terrified to even blink his eyes. After what felt like an eternity Ernesto turned his attention to Señor Gomez. His face was distant, his eyes lacking any real emotion. It sent a chill rushing up his spine.

"I saw my moment slipping away… so I did what I had to seize it." He stated before slamming the door behind him.


	5. THE OTHER SIDE

**AN: OH MY LOVELIES I AM SO SORRY THIS HAS TAKEN ME SO LONG-IT HAS BEEN MONTHS SINCE I PUBLISHED THE LAST CHAPTER AND A LITTLE OVER A YEAR SINCE I PUBLISHED THE STORY. I DON'T WANT TO GET INTO A LOT OF DETAILS BUT I HAVE BEEN DEALING WITH A LOT IN MY LIFE THAT HAS ZAPPED MY STRENGTH AND ANY DESIRE TO WRITE. BUT I'M SLOWLY GETTING BACK INTO IT AND LET ME TELL YOU IT FEELS AMAZING!**

 **PLEASE KNOW THAT EVEN THOUGH IT MAY TAKE ME LONGER I HAVE EVERY INENTION OF FINISHING THIS STORY.**

 **THE CHAPTER TITLE WAS INSPIRED BY YET ANOTHER MUSICAL-THE GREATEST SHOWMAN! AND IT WILL ALSO BE SHORTER! WOOOO! MY INTIAL PLAN WAS TO HAVE ANOTHER LONGER CHAPTER BUT I DECIDED IT WAS BETTER TO BREAK THEM UP INTO TWO AND JUST PUBLISH THIS.**

 **SO WITHOUT FURTHER OR DUE LET'S DIG IN!**

 **DISCLAIMER:**

 **(EJM513 HIDING IN THE BUSHES): MAYBE IF I'M QUIET THEY WONT FIND ME…**

 **MEN IN BLACK: FOUND YOU**

 **EJM513: AAAHHH! PLEASE! I DON'T OWN COCO OR ANYTHING RLEATED TO IT OR THE GREATEST SHOWMAN (THOUGH I ADORE THAT FILM)! PLLEEEEASSSE I'M ONLY 23 IN AT TH PRIME OF MY LIFE JUST LET ME BE!**

 **MEN IN BLACK: NOPE.**

 **EJM513 *STARTS TO RUN AWAY* WHY ME?!**

~CHAPTER FIVE~

~THE OTHER SIDE ~

There was nothing but darkness.

It was all consuming and far darker than any night sky. It was an impenetrable barrier that engulfed him, refusing to let anything in. It refused to let him go or escape. It was as if he or anything else ever existed.

There was no way for Hector to know how long he was trapped in this vast nothingness. There was nothing for him to be aware of.

Then, something began to change. A soft, warm light began to break through the darkness. It was nothing but a flicker, fighting its way through the impermeable blackness. Somehow that little speck of light was winning the battle. It grew brighter and brighter with each passing second, breathing life into Hector. Slowly but surely, he began to be pulled into that light. It was so warm and comforting, replacing the nothingness with an overwhelming sensation of peace that crashed over him. He was gradually becoming more aware as the blackness continued to vanish into the inviting light. He could feel a slight pain tapping at the back of his head. He became aware of the aches riddling his body, aware of the fear twisting at his heart.

Hector hated it.

He wanted to run away from that light. The peace it had once given was slowly disappearing as it burned brighter and brighter, an unholy flash ripping him out of the darkness. It was all too much. He wanted to crawl back into the vast nothingness.

For a moment he seemed to get his wish. The light gave one more violent flash and faded away. Hector was once again washed over Hector, but it was different. He was aware of his body lying on something soft, of something supporting his aching head. There was something warm draped over him. He could feel his body groan and moan. He could hear a soft murmur of voices swirling around him. With each passing second the swirl of voices grew louder and louder, transforming into a loud mass ringing in his head. He turned his head away from the voices, wanting them desperately to disappear to give his pounding head some relief.

Instead Hector felt his eyes begin to twitch with a desire to open. He resisted, wanting to stay safe in the dark and wrapped in what he could only assume was a blanket. Yet his eyes continued to slowly blink open, chasing away the darkness with blinding light. A horrible burning sensation finally forced Hector to open his eyes and take in the world around him.

The first thing he saw was a high ceiling with intricate designs carved into the wood. His groggy mind began swamped with confusion as he tried to put scattered pieces of memory back together. No matter how hard he tried or how long he stared up at the ceiling the pieces were impossible to find, scattered in a dense fog. He could remember the feeling of chilled December air against his cheeks and filling his lungs. He recalled a stabbing pain in his abdomen, sending him spiraling into darkness. His eyes narrowed, desperately trying to fill in the spaces his memory could not fill. His first and most and most natural assumption was that Ernesto had whisked him away to a hospital when he fell ill. The longer he stared at the intricate ceiling. The longer he glared at the ceiling, the more Hector began to question his initial assumption. The detailed cravings and designs dancing above him seemed far too fancy, far to grand and official for any hospital he had been in.

Then again, he hadn't had the luxury of being in many hospitals-maybe the hospitals in Mexico City were fitted with a grand ceiling.

And yet... despite telling himself otherwise a little voice of doubt sneered in the back of his head. His face twisted with incredulity. He went to bite his bottom lip, only to feel hard bone instead of his soft lips. Hector flinched at the sensation and the small clanking sound. He lifted his hand to his face, expecting to feel soft skin touching plump lips. What he felt was hard bone touching hard bone. His gut twisted in horror, his brain falling deeper and deeper into disbelief. His chest began to heave as his breathing began more and more panicked. This only increased his terror. Instead of feeling tight and heavy his chest felt eerily hallow.

His hands fell to his lap with an unholy clatter.

Something wasn't right…

Something wasn't right at all.

Hector slowly sat up, his body trembling. His dark eyes slowly trailed down to his lap. Horror instantly overwhelmed him. Resting on top of a faded blue blanket were a pair of large, thin, tan colored hands he had grown accustomed to, but a pair of stark white bones. He lifted his eyes to his eyes, gawking at him in horror as a scream burned in the back of his throat….

His eyes widened once more. At the thought of throat, he thrusted his hands to his neck, praying his would feel his atoms apple or the muscles of neck bulge as he tried to swallow. He felt nothing but hard, rough bone. Hector's hands sprang away as he was touching a burning flame. At this point his chest and stomach should have been contorted in terror and his heart should have been thundering. He felt nothing but his own cold terror and turmoil.

"Señor?" A voice call, making Hector snap out of his thoughts.

Standing before him was a tall, gleaming white skeleton with slicked back dark hair and two black eyes staring at him. The panic he felt unleashed itself in a violent scream, sending Hector scurrying away from the concerned skeleton.

"WHAT IN THE SANE HELL ARE YOU?"

"Señor My name is Alfonso Rodriguez. I know how shocking this all seems but please try and remain calm." The man explained, making his voice as calm and soothing as he possibly could.

"Remain calm?! REAMAIN CALM?! How on Earth am I supposed to remain calm when I'm talking to a skeleton when… I am a skeleton." Hector paused, desperately trying to regain his breathe and his senses. The man carefully stepped forward and sat on the bed, staring at the young man with all the pity his dark orbs and gleaming white skull could muster. The sensation of the extra weight sent Hector scrambling backwards until his he found himself plastered against the wall behind him. His breath was rapid and shallow, yet the usual burning sensation that came with panicked breathing was missing. He instinctively brought his hand to his chest, and once again found himself startled by the empty space he found. The uniformed man reached forward, attempting to place a calming hand Hector's knee. The young mariachi let out a petrified yelp, attempting to put more distance between himself and the skeleton regardless of the wall behind him.

"Señor I know how terrifying and confusing this all is. I promise I will explain it all if you just try and remain as calm as possible." Hector gawked at the man before him, his mind spinning. His breath continued to slow little by little, his panicked expression melting into one of quiet curiosity. He let his hands rest on his bony lap, giving a gentle nod towards the man before him.

"Sí… lo siento. This is all just so.. I don't even know." Hector explained, his words frenzied and rushed. The skeleton nodded in understanding, once again trying to place a gentle hand on Hector's knees. This time Hector staid perfectly still despite the sensation of fear crawling up his spine. Both men kept their eyes locked, the air growing thick with dread and anticipation.

"What I am about to say is going to be a shock, and I want you to try and stay as calm as possible." He paused, the dreadful words stuck behind his closed mouth. Hector watched with bated breath, his fear growing intolerable. Rodriguez sucked in a deep breath, looked away and began to mutter under his breath. The only words Hector could hear were "worst part of my job". If Hector still had a throat it would have closed with fear.

What was hard about what this stranger had to do?

Rodriguez finally looked up after what felt like an eternity of silence. His gleaming white face was contorted in a series, almost regretful expression. Hector felt cold terror fill up the empty spaces between his bones.

"You are a skeleton because you unfortunately died."

Everything around Hector began to slow as the words bounced around through his skull. They couldn't seem to stick, leaving Hector to only stare at the man with a baffled expression. Rodriquez stared back, waiting for a reaction that refused to come. Hector just listened to the words ricocheting in his head, trying to ignore them and the reality of what surrounded him.

It couldn't be true.

He couldn't possibly be dead.

He was only 21 and had so much… so much to live for. He had his music, his had his best friend and most importantly he had a beautiful family who needed him.

Soon a new phrase kept racing around in his thoughts, desperately trying to overpower what the kind stranger had made;

The grand ceiling, the bed, the skeleton sitting in front of him and his own skeletal body was nothing but a twisted nightmare. Soon enough he would wake up, dazed and confused in another identical hotel room with Ernesto snoring nearby.

It was all a dream.

It was all a dream.

But was it? No matter how many times he repeated the phrase in his head, the proclamation of the staring man continued to grow louder and louder, overwhelming all sense of denial he had held on to. Hector's bony fingers gripped the soft sheets beneath him, every inch of his lanky body beginning to tremble. His breathing became heavy once more. Despite no longer having a stomach he felt the all too familiar sensation of knows where his stomach would have been. His dark eyes bulged as they trailed away from the stranger. He began to shake his head over and over again, his hands gripping his black hair.

"Wait wait wait wait wait! You're telling me I… I died? And that's why I'm a skeleton and why you're a skeleton because I'm in some magical place where everyone turns into skeletons when they die?!" Hector asked, releasing his hair and snapping his head up to look at the man. His expression was twisted in disbelief, his bones stiff with agitation. The kindly expression on the skeletons face dissipated into one of exasperation. He let out a huff and sat up straighter, and air of authority washing over him.

"Sí Señor I am afraid that you are dead, and yes you and everyone else here are skeletons because we are dead. However there is no magic involved." Hector shook his head once more, the words refusing to sink in. His bony fingers grabbed the blankets before him, his emotions swirling in a violent whirlpool. He looked down at the faded blanket, a violent mix of agitation and incredulity filling the void between his ribs.

"No es posible." He muttered in a tortuous loop. The blue clad man let out a huff, crossing his arms over his ribs. His eyes were full of pity, his face contorted in quiet sympathy. Despite being nothing but skin and bones, it was obvious from the moment he arrived the mariachi was quiet young. Hector's thick ebony hair lacked any of the gray that was speckled throughout his own. His eyes, though swimming with agitation and disbelief, were vibrant and bright. The biggest sign of his youth was his voice, which lacked the wear of life. A rational voice reminded him there was nothing special about this frantic young man. If anything he was the exception, having been one of the lucky few to reach middle age. It was a painful reality of his job that a startling majority of the people that came across his path were tragically young. Yet there was something pathetically tragic about this young man…. as if there was absolutely no reason for him to be here. Out of the kindness of his heart, he sat for a moment and watched Hector, listening to him mutter the same phrase over and over again.

""No es posible."

"No es posible"

No es

"Señor…" Rodriguez whispered kindly, causing Hector's mumbling to cease and his head to snap up. His eyes were wild, brimming with confusion and terror. The man placed his hand on Hector's shoulder, his sympathetic expression growing stronger. Hector's wild, fearful air refusing to settle.

"Señor, I understand how hard this is for you. It's"

"But you don't understand! I was fine! I was just fine and then…" Hector spat, his words rushed and haggard. His hallow chest heaved as if his lungs were working in over drive, starving for air they could no longer have. Rodriguez tightened his hold on Hector's shoulder and nodded, listening to Hector's manic breathing for a moment.

"Then what happened?" He asked, keeping his voice gentle and soft. Hector shook his head, as if the movements would jolt his memories. He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut, franticly reaching back into his head to remember any little detail. He found himself fighting through a vast sea of haze and fog that made his skull ache from their heaviness. Refusing to give up he breathed in and fought through his throbbing head. Nothing seemed able to penetrate the haze that clouded through his head. Hector shook his head, the place where his heart once was feeling strangely tight. He opened his eyes. His now skeletal frame hunched over in defeat. Hector kept his eyes straight ahead, mindlessly staring at the skeletons walking around him. He felt even more hallow, as if even his bones were made of nothing.

Without anyway to disprove what the stranger had told him, Hector Rivera had come to the cold realization that he had indeed dropped dead out of the blue. That prospect in itself would have made his blood run cold had he still possessed any. What nagged at him the most, what struck terror instead of him was the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he seemed unable to piece together what happened to him.

Rodriguez gently patted his shoulder blade and gave a warm, understanding smile. Hector remained rigid and unresponsive to his bony touch.

"It's okay if you don't remember. Sometimes, especially when someone dies suddenly, memories can become a little muddled."

Hector nodded, still staring numbly ahead. Despite his anguish and overwhelming desire to understand what happened to him, Hector sat up straighter and turned his head towards the stranger. He opened his jaw, thinking of something he could say to this man when his bones suddenly stiffened. He let out a soft gasp. The clouds and smog hiding his memories began to vanish away in a violent burst. All at once the tiny pieces he had been missing flooded his senses. A dark, moon and star lit sky came into focus. Building after building passed by him as the clacking sound of hard stone streets filled the quiet black sky. He could even feel the slight chill in the air that stung his cheeks and nose. There was rather monstrous and black loomed ahead, puffing gray whips of smoke high in the air. Without warning he could feel an unholy pain tearing apart his stomach, sending the world around him spinning. A familiar voice and gentle touch tried to comfort him, saying something incoherent about chorizo.

Hector's breath quickened, his bones beginning to shake. They rattled ever so slightly under his thick clothing. Rodriguez finally released his hold on Hector's shoulder and moved back ever so slightly. He titled his head and looked straight into Hector's bewildered eyes.

"Do you remember something?" He questioned his voice carrying an air of urgency. Hector's fingers flexed against the soft sheets as he gave a rapid bob of his head.

"I… uh… I think so. I felt this awful pain in my stomach and then everything went black. Before that I remember someone… probably my best friend Ernesto mentioning something about bad chorizo. Maybe that's what…

Rodriquez's narrowed his eyes, his arms crossing over his navy blue jacket. For the briefest of moments a twinge of doubt and suspicion flickered in the back of his head. That flicker vanished with a simple blink of his eyes. What reason was there to doubt that a bad chorizo took the life of this young soul? He nodded and replied,

"From what you told me that seems to make sense." Hector bobbed his head in a greement, gathering his thoughts before he attempted to continue.

Out of all the things that could have killed him-his life had been ended by a bad sausage? The conclusion did not settle right where Hector's stomach should have been. How on earth could something so simple, something he had indulged in so many times could have been his ultimate downfall? It seemed far to cruel to be a reality. Yet he had nothing else to go on but that one little phrase uttered before his life had ended. There was no other option but to ignore the pit in his stomach, and attempt to finish piecing together the final moments of his life.

"I remember walking in a city-probably Mexico City. I was walking towards something big and black that puffed out smoke."

"A train?" Rodriguez offered. Hector jolted, practically leaping out of his bed and sending Rodriguez flying out of his crisp uniform. His expression became wild with triumph and excitement, his mouth curling into the smallest of smiles.

"¡SÍ SÍ! A train! I was heading to the train because I was going…." Hector's voice trailed off, creating a blanket of silence between the pair. His victorious appearance dissipated into one of horror. He sank into the mattress, his eyes so wide they were in danger of flying out of his head. Had he retained skin it would have been drained of all color. He gawked at Rodriguez with desperate, horror filled eyes. His thoughts were consumed by one all encompassing thought.

His family.

He would never be able to feel the touch of his wife's soft and delicate hands as she caressed his face. He would never smell her sweet hair as he fell into slumber. He would never hear Imelda's angelic voice as she completed mundane after mundane task.

He would never be able to just hold her and feel her heart beating against his chest.

They would never be able to grow old together.

Hector began to shrink into himself, as if he was trying to hide from the very thought. The idea of never being able to see his wife again felt so alien to him. Despite being made of nothing but bones Hector felt his stomach give a painful twist and his heart give an agonizing tug, even though he had neither. He felt himself growing hallower and hallower as visions of Imelda swirled through his head. He saw her expertly braiding her dark hair, felt her fingers as she put her jacket. He closed his eyes as her low, smooth voice filled his senses. It was a melody he had heard many times before-a slow and simple tune she would sing to lull…

Hector's eyes snapped open, the violent twisting of his heart and stomach far more intense than they had been moments before. His bones began to rattle, starling Rodriguez. The uniform clad man reached on and placed his hands on his shoulder once more, but it did nothing. Hector was lost in his head and the agony that threatened to swallow him whole.

He would never see Coco again.

He would never be able to feel her little hands squeeze against his cheeks or grip on to him for dear life. He would never hear her twinkling laughter or hear her dainty voice as she attempted to sing along with him. He would never be able to cradle her or sing their special song the lull her to sleep.

None of this-as much as it tore him apart- compared to everything he would miss.

Hector would miss ever signal mile stone in his little girl's life. He would never see her off to school in the morning. He would never watch grow taller and taller. She would turn into an adult, fall in love and become a mother without him there.

He was going to miss her entire life.

Hector hung his head and closed his eyes, frozen by a cold numbness that filled his bones. He remained perfectly still and silent, frozen to his core. Rodriquez kept his watchful eyes trained on him, attempting to figure out what was going through this man's head. At first he could only assume (and hope) he had remembered another piece of what lead to his ultimate demise. Though he felt a twinge of guilt for even thinking such a thing, he knew it would make the steps of the process far easier for everyone involved.

"Did you remember something else?" Rodriquez inquired, reaching out and touching Hector's bony shoulder. He had expected the young man to jump at his touch-as he had every time he tried to show any form of comfort. Much to Rodriquez surprise he didn't. Hector staid frozen under his gentle touch, completely lost in his is thoughts. His dark eyes were wide with horror and though it wasn't possible he somehow looked as if he would be ill. Rodriquez felt the familiar twinge of anxiety bubble in his bones. There was no way of knowing what was going through this man's head-but whatever it was had shook him to his very core.

What on Earth had happened to him?

"Señor are you okay?" Hector shook his head, his moon shaped eyes locked straight ahead. He carefully raised his arms and wrapped around his new skeletal frame. It was an almost unholy sensation to be holding cold, hard bone instead of warm flesh. Despite the oddness of the sensation he didn't let go. Hector held on as tight as he could manage, gripping hold of the familiar fabric of his mariachi suit. His head lowered and hung, his shoulders hunched in broken defeat. He took in a raged breath anad closed his eyes. Only then did Hector find any sort of will to speak.

"My family… I have a.. a wife and a three year old little girl. I can't… I can't leave them. They need me. I need them. I can't…"

"I'm truly sorry Señor." Rodriquez said, his eyes glowing with empathy. A wave of relief rushed over him. The shattered state of this young man was difficult to witness. It was never easy to watch someone begin to grapple with the potential long years of separation between those they left behind.

But, at the very least, he knew how to deal with this problem. He readjusted himself slightly on the bed and gave Hector a rather awkward one-arm hug. Even that didn't make him jump.

"I know this probably won't help, but everyone here knows what you're feeling. We all have had to leave someone behind. I wish I could say it get easier but… I'm afraid it doesn't. However… you will have a chance to see your family before their time comes."

Hector's shoulders rolled back as he snapped to attention. He spun to face Rodriquez, almost knocking him off the bed in the process. His dark eyes were still wide, but they were now filled with a new spark of hope and determination.

"What?! How?!" Hector demanded, leaning in closer to Rodriquez. The officer leaned back, his own eyes growing with surprise. He moved a little further away from Hector. There was a tenseness about him as he stared desperately at him. His hair had managed to become even more unraveled and disheveled. The desperation and hope in his eyes radiated through his entire body.

He truly looked mad.

Out of pure instinct Rodriquez cleared his none existent throat. He put even more space between him and the seemingly deranged mariachi before willing his mouth to twist into a smile.

"Once a year on Día de Los Muertos, you'll get to cross over a beautiful marigold bridge and visit your family-IF they put your photo on their offrenda." He explained. At the sound of his words the musicians crazed expression vanished as suddenly as it had come. He turned away, staring at nothing once more. His shoulders rounded once more as what little hope he had deflated.

Once a year?

He would only get to see his family once a year?

Of course Hector knew that one day a year was a blessing. It was far better than having to wait a seemingly endless amount of time before he would see anyone he cared for again. He would still get to see his Coco grow, even if it was only in bits and broken fragments. He would get to watch his beautiful wife age like fine wine and watch her olive skin slowly wrinkle and her hair grow slowly gray. Yet no matter how desperately he attempted to find any bright spot in this scenario, he simply couldn't In reality one simple night a year was not even. He would still miss the vast majority of their lives, only able to see short glimpses. Even worse, Hector had a sinking feeling his presence would go unnoticed. Though oblivious to the rules, something told him he would only be able to be a spectator. He wouldn't be able to hold them. He would never be able to sing and make them laugh.

He would never get to tell them how much he loved them, and how terribly he missed them.

Hector wanted to rebel at the thoughts. He wanted to scream and shot at the unfairness of it all. He wanted to feel the sadness bitterness of it all. All he felt was cold, detachment burrow deep in his bones.

For the first time Hector Rivera truly felt nothing.

"I know it doesn't seem like enough." Rodriquez said, brining Hector out of his thoughts for a brief moment. He turned his gaze away from the empty space in front of him and stared at the officer. His eyes were glazed over with despair. The rest of his face was a blank, exhausted slate. He slowly blinked, waiting for Rodriquez to say anything to ease the freezing numbness settling in his bones. The kind man stood up and pulled out his jacket, attempting to straighten it out. His forced smile softened into something genuine, the emphatic glow in his eyes returning.

"But we are all so thankful to have this opportunity. And I promise, time goes by much faster here than you would think. You'll see them soon enough." He said. A blanket of awkward silence fell over them as Hector sat in stunned reserve. The gears in his head began to churn, attempting to process what he had just been told. It was a monumental effort. He had no way of knowing the validity of the officer's statements. Maybe time did move-or at least seemed to move-faster than it did when he was living. Maybe it was a bunch of pretty words to try and lessen to sting of eternal separation. The man's smile was kind enough, and there was nothing about his demeanor or the expression on his face that gave Hector any pause.

Could he really believe it though?

Hector felt a bundle of nerves fill his empty chest, beginning to break the numbness that engulfed him. As far as he was concerned certainty had passed away with him-with a few notable exceptions.

Hector Rivera had died, and the only clue he had as to why was rancid chorizo of all things.

He was now skeleton.

He would be separated from the love of his lives for who knows how long.

Rodriquez's well meaning words turned sour and hallow. He knew no matter how fast time may flow, he would face many long, lonely years.


	6. SO BIG AND SO SMALL

**AN: HELLO MY LOVELIES! :D THIS AUTHORS NOTE IS GOING TO BE SHORT. I JUST WANT TO THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVELY SUPPORT YOU HAVE SHOWN! IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME!**

 **ALSO… IF YOU DON'T MIND A SHAMELESS PLUG… I HAVE ANOTHER COCO STORY UP, A MODERN AU TYPE OF STORY. IT'S CALLED "MY PROUD CORAZ** **Ó** **N" AND I HOPE YOU'LL CHECK IT OUT IF YOU WANT :D**

 **OKAY ENOUGH SHAMELESS PLUGGING TIME ON WITH THE NEXT CHAPTER.**

 **AS USUAL THE CHAPTER TITLE IS INSPIRED FROM A SONG FROM A BROADWAY MUSICAL.**

 **CAN YOU GUESS THE MUSICAL?**

 **AS ALWAYS PLEASE ENJOY AND PRETTY PLEASE REIVEW! :D I PROMISE I DON'T BITE.**

 **DISCLAIMER: YOU KNOW THE DRILL I SAY I DON'T OWN COCO OR ANYTHING RELAATED TO IT BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH AND THEN I MAKE A JOKE ABOUT MEN IN BLACK COMING TO GET ME WELL NO MORE! I HAM PAST ALL THAT NONSENSE *PEERS OVER AND SEES MEN IN BLACK COMING FOR HER* TELL MY MAMA I LOVE HER *RUNS TOWRDS THEM WITH LOUD WAR SHRIEK***

~CHAPTER SIX~

SO BIG AND SO SMALL

 _February 1922_

Darkness had settled over the Santa Cecilia. Imelda sat alone in her kitchen, her soft face lit by the flickering glow of a candle. Her round eyes were heavy and shrouded with dark rings. Her hair, which was normally twisted up with great skill and care fell down her shoulders and back. The beautiful braids made her ever constant headache unbearable. By this point she was so weak, so drained of life that she would fall into blissful rest minutes after Coco had slipped into slumber.

That cool winter night was different.

Coco had long since drifted into her dreams, wrapped safely in her favorite blanket. Everything in the hacienda was still and tranquil sans for a dancing flame and Imelda's sprinting thoughts. Her head was so heavy she didn't bother to hold it up. She rested it gingerly on the table, her crossed arms acting a pillow. Her eyes stared at the candle, watching as each little drop of wax slide down to the wood below. She blinked and sucked in a deep breath through her nose.

Oh how she wanted to be in bed. Every inch of her body ached with exhaustion. She knew if she tried to stand there was a chance her slim legs would be so weak, they wouldn't be able to hold her. It didn't matter how much weight had dropped off her small frame. She felt so fragile and so light. So, she stayed at her table, resting her head on her arms and fighting to keep her burdensome eyes open. It didn't matter how drained her frail body was, her mind was far to awake and alert for Imelda to even consider going to rest.

No matter how hard she tried her thoughts kept returning to the sorry state her life had fallen into. Imelda let out a groan of exhaustion and ran her fingers through her thick dark brunette mane. It was painful, but Imelda knew she had no choice but to face the reality that she had been desperately ignoring.

Because her reality had become far too cold, distant and overwhelming to accept.

Imelda never wanted Hector to leave. She knew deep within her gut his departure would only bring a black cloud of misery and struggle. Yet she let him go. She let go with beautiful promises of greater stability, and for six months his he fulfilled those pledges. At least once a month he would send a portion of his earnings-far more than she had expected. It was enough to keep a roof over her daughter's head, food in her stomach and clothes on her back. Along with the odd jobs Imelda would procure the worry of keeping her life stable had been lifted from her shoulders. Her only worries were making sure her little angel and creating a warm environment for her to thrive. And of course, waiting for any word or sign that Hector would be returning.

What she received was excuse after hallow excuse of why the tour etched longer and longer, with even hallower promises of his return. An ugly seed of doubt was planted and grew with each passing month he was gone. Despite this doubt Imelda kept her letters as frank but loving as ever, shying away from any fears that there may be no homecoming. She buried that seed as deeply as she could when she would see the money and more importantly, when she would see the beam on her Coco's face when her Papa sent her another poem.

Then with the quiver of the breeze everything stopped. There were no more letters, no more beautiful poems and declarations of love and most terrifying no more money. There was nothing.

Complete and utter silence.

First there was confusion. Why had it taken so long for his next letter to arrive? Why had he not even sent a telegram telling there where he was, letting her know he was at least breathing. For the first few weeks Imelda found herself staring at the door, her chest growing tight and her heart cracking. What she had been expecting, and what she had been waiting for she didn't know. Maybe a part of her hoped Hector would waltz through that door with his large smile and melt all her confusion. Maybe a part of her-a dark part of her-prayed there would be a knock on the door with a somber uniformed clad man bringing the unthinkable.

At least she would have answers.

At least she would have something resembling and explanation for Coco. Though only three Coco was all too aware something was wrong. She had always made it habit to ask her mama when papa was coming home. Her round face and eyes would sink with disappointment until a new poem or letter was delivered to her. They kept her joy soaring and kept her from standing at the window, waiting for any sign of her Papa. With the letters gone there was nothing to keep her soaring, to keeping her from staring forlornly at the door or window. There was nothing to keep her questioning where her father was, why he wasn't home.

It was torture for Imelda to watch her daughter. She found herself filled with a powerful mixture of utter sadness and overwhelming desire to rip out Hector's throat. Each day of silence grew longer and longer, but Imelda persisted. She would greet her daughter with the warmest of smiles, would do anything within her power to distract her young mind. She would hold her when the pain of missing her father became too great and tears spilled down her cheeks. She did it without question and ignored her own turmoil.

However, that early February day had brought Imelda to her breaking point. Everything around her seemed to be tumbling and crumbling. There was not enough food. Coco's shoes were so worn the sole was tattered and hanging on by a single thread. What money she had seemed to vanish into thin air, leaving her scared, starving and exhausted. None of this could compare to what Coco had asked her. As Imelda was tucking her into bed, Coco gazed up at her with round, glistening eyes. Her little hands gripped the blanket, her lips turned in a woeful frown.

"Mama does Papa not love me? Is that why there are no letters?" She asked, her voice soft and thin. Imelda felt her heart snap in two. Her chest swelled with a dangerous fire that threatened to sear her. Somehow, she had no idea how, Imelda managed to forget her snapped heart and lull her child to rest. Imelda held her close to her chest and rocked her little body back and forth. She kissed the top of her head and began to stroke her thick hair.

"Oh mija…. Do you remember the last letter he sent you?" Coco nodded and sniffled.

"'Dear Coco, I love you with all my heart.'" She replied, her voice smoother and tinged with hope.

"There's your answer mi alma" Imelda kissed the top of her head and held her close to her chest. This made it hard for Coco to see the twisted look of furry on her face. No matter how her furry raged, no matter how desperately she wanted to find Hector and rip off his cojones, Imelda would shield her angel from it all. She could never see how angry her mama was, or how a fog of fear and sadness always followed her.

After all, Coco was a child. There was no need to add to the incredulity she already felt.

Once Coco had fallen into her dreams the fire in Imelda's chest evaporated. She was left with nothing but a battered, weary body and a cracked heart.

There was only one possible glimmer of hope.

Resting on the table was a pale envelope with neat, meticulous penmanship. It had come with the golden afternoon sun and sent Imelda's heart sprinting. From the moment she laid eyes on it, Imelda knew it wasn't from her Hector. The hand writing was far to neat compared to her husbands' notorious scrawl. The handwriting was unfamiliar, but it only took a moment for Imelda to discover who it was from. In the top left-hand corner of the letter was the same of its sender;

Ernesto de la Cruz.

After hours and hours of waiting Imelda finally had the quiet and privacy she needed to read the letter. She shifted her head and turned her weary gaze to the letter. It sat peacefully and unassuming, taking on a golden hue in the dim candle light. Imelda knew it was far from unassuming. As she stared at it, trying to grab any ounce of courage, her stomach fluttered with nervous butterflies. Innumerable questions swarmed in her head, causing her stomach to twist.

Why had Ernesto sent her letter?

What had compelled Ernesto to send her a letter? Did that mean something terrible had happened to Hector? Imelda felt her throat cease at the thought. Every inch of her body wanted to reject the notion. Imelda knew it was foolish, wishful thinking. A little voice crept through those thoughts, reminding her there was no other reason for Ernesto to try and contact her. She could only hope whatever it was, Hector's soul had not left.

" _Please God let him be a live… please let him be alive_." Imelda blinked a stray tear away as she said her silent prayer. She pressed her hands on the rough table and slowly pushed herself up. Her eyes never left the envelope. Her heart began to race, and her stomach flipped as she reached for the letter. She stared at the envelope one last time, taking a moment to collect her thoughts and gather one last ounce of courage. With a tentative hand she opened the envelope and unfolded folded the letter.

 _Dear Imelda,_

 _I know you are probably very surprised to be receiving a letter from me. However, I am afraid I am writing you because I have been left with no other choice._

 _I don't know how to say this so I will be blunt. Hector is gone. I do not mean he is dead. The last I saw him he was very much alive. He has simply vanished. The last time I saw him was in December. We were in Mexico City and some pretty little gringa of all things began flirting with him. He went off with her and I haven't seen him since._

 _I am so sorry Imelda. I am sorry it has taken me this long to tell you what happened, but I have been desperately trying to find him for you. I don't know where he could have gone or who is with… but I can only assume he is with that gringa._

 _Above all I am so sorry Hector has done this to you and Coco. No one, especially me, would ever expect Hector to do such a thing. I heard him mention he loved not being 'Hector the husband' or 'Hector the father', but I thought he was happy about not being woken up in the middle of the night. I guess he missed his freedom and ran as soon as he found it._

 _I'm sure Hector has stopped sending letters, which means he has stopped sending you money. I know you're too proud to accept this, but I put some money in the envelope. Hopefully it will be enough to help until you can make other arrangements._

 _Once again I am so sorry Imelda. I will let you if I find him. Please do not hesitate to write if you need anything._

 _Ernesto._

"What the devil is this?" Imelda whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. She rolled her eyes and scoffed, ready to crumble the letter and write one of her own. How dare that pendejo send such bold face lies? Imelda was highly aware they were never on the best of terms. She knew he loathed her presence. He never said as much, yet Imelda knew he saw her and especially Coco as nothing but a wrench in their grand plans. It would be no great surprise if Ernesto had kept Hector's letters from reaching her, if he had sent a letter of his own to try a dismantle the life Imelda and Hector had lovingly crafted. She was ready to believe this without a second thought. She was ready to pour every scathing thought racing in her head in her own letter. She was ready to begin her task when a little switch went off in her head.

Two months. Hector had not sent a single word in two long, isolating months. Letters never came fast, but he had never gone this long without even the shortest of letters. Even more worrying than the lack of letters was the lack of funds that kept her, and Coco sustained. Imelda had poured over her funds and found with horror she was quite literally down to her last pesos. Her stomach lurched. The pieces of an aggravating puzzle slowly began to come together. She could see dozens of eyes gawking at her, darting away the instant they were caught. Soft and cruel whispers buzzed in her head. The voices were all different, but they muttered the same various phrases;

"That poor woman."

"I heard he ran off… he's probably with another woman."

"It's not surprising he left. I don't blame him, having to live with a woman like that would drive anyone mad."

How everyone else knew of this new development baffled Imelda. It would never cease to amaze her how rapidly gossip would spread. It was no different than a deadly virus, and it was one Imelda did everything in her power to avoid. When she caught those curious, scrutinizing stares or heard their buzzing voices she would retreat into her fortress of steal. It was just mindless gossip that she wouldn't waste a second on.

At least… that was what Imelda had believed. In the beginning it had been easy to ignore the hissing gossip. That night they grew louder and heavier with certainty, becoming impossible to snub.

All of this led to one horrible, deafening realization.

Something was terribly… terribly wrong.

Every muscle froze and a chill seeped deep into her bones. Her stomach churned and churned. Her chest constricted as if all the air was being squeezed from her. Her heart began to race faster and faster until it felt as if it would burst from her chest.

" _No es la verdad. No es la verdad. Es solo una pesadilla. Es solo una pesadilla._ " Imelda silently repeated this chant over and over again. Her eyes darted to the top of the letter and read it once more. The words seemed strange and fantastical, as if they were about some other woman's life instead of her own. Her Hector would never do such a thing. Hector was the man who never missed a chance to hold her close. Hector was the man who smiled at her with light in his eyes and would spend every waking hour singing to her if he could. Hector was not the kind of man who would disappear with the wind. Imelda knew her husband, and she knew within her gut he would never abandon her or their child. Her darted to the top of the paper one last time, shaking her head in disbelief. Despite going back to read the letter for a third time Imelda did not want to believe the letter was for her. She did not, she could not believe Hector would so easily throw away the life they had created.

In spite of her conviction Imelda's lung filled with panic and screamed for air. Her stomach painfully as the pieces of her heart collapsed deep in her gut. Her blood began to simmer, making her burn in spite of the relatively cool air surrounding her. The soft whisper in her head morphed into a giant, lions roar. That booming voice screamed the same phrase over and over again.

" _HE'S NEVER COMING HOME!"_

" _HE'S NEVER COMING HOME!"_

" _HE'S NEVER COMING HOME!"_

" _HE NEVER COM"_

Before that sentence finished Imelda sprang out of the chair. It squealed and scrapped against the floor, breaking the thick silence in the hacienda. She marched towards her room, lost in her own spiraling state. Her breathes came out in rapid succession and she shook from head to toe. She kept moving until she crashed into the corner of her night stand. The top draw popped open and a dark object on top of it tumbled forward. A sharp pain in her pelvis jolted Imelda back to her senses, making her stumble back. Her hand clutched her pelvis as she panted, struggling to fill her chest with air. Her vision focused on a photo that had toppled over. She stepped forward and lifted it.

Imelda knew that picture all too well. It a photo of her with Hector and Coco. She saw herself sitting like a stern statue on a chair, wearing her favorite dress and looking squarely on the camera. Coco was on her lap, her head titled in confusion at the strange object before her. And Hector… Hector was standing next to them clad in a charro suit with his hand resting on the chair. He lips were curled in a soft, content and proud smile.

Whatever think thread had been holding Imelda together snapped. Her nostrils began to flare like an angry bull, her chest heaving as she let out raspy breath after raspy breath. She gripped the frame and in one swift motion she the photo out of his frame. Once the picture was in her hands, she gripped the corner by Hector's hair and pulled. The room was filled with a sickening ripping sound as Hector's head and face was detached from his long, gangly body. Imelda watched as it dropped into the open top door, her breathing as wild and as her eyes. She let go of the rest of the photo and rushed out of the room she had once shared with that disgusting bastardo. In fact, she couldn't stay in that house one more second. The air inside felt so think she felt as if she couldn't breathe. Her skin was boiling, and her face seemed to be on fire.

She had to get out. She needed air.

Imelda swung open the door and ran into cool air. Her legs finally gave out and she collapsed to stone ground before her. Her erratic breathing refused to cease, but at the very least the refreshing night air was cooling off her searing skin. Still trembling she pulled her legs close to her body, hugged them with all her might and buried her face into her knees.

All too quickly Imelda felt the familiar sensation of tears building in the back of her eyes. She sucked in a deep breath and drug her nails into the soft folds of her dress. Her head shook as she swallowed those tears. With her eyes now dry and her insides numb, Imelda lifted her head from her lap. She leaned against her cold, hard home and turned her gaze to the sky.

For years to come Imelda would remember that midnight sky. It was as black as ink. A full moon hung square on the sky, shining its white light on the world below. A sea of stars glittered and danced around the moon. They stretched for miles and miles, highlighting how grand the world truly was.

Imelda hugged her knees closer as she continued to stare in the speckled vastness above her. A wave of cold numbness crashed over her as she continued to gaze at the twinkling stars. It had been so long since she had looked at the sky and felt so minuscule. When she had been a smaller girl, Imelda would occasionally find herself gawking at the black void of the night sky. She would marvel at the enormity above her, in complete awe of how massive the world was. As she grew the world seemed to shrink. The buildings no longer towered like the tallest mountains. Grown men and women no longer hulked and boomed like giants. The endless sky no longer filled her with awe.

As she gazed at the moon and stars, Imelda Rivera had never felt so small in her short twenty-two years of life. The home she had worked so tirelessly to create felt colossal and remote. She might as well have been pressing her back against a soaring, impregnable mountain. The rocky, cool court yard and town surrounding her home turned into an immense, wild terrain she didn't dare venture into. Imelda pressed further against her mountain, her eyes large and round. She slowly lowered her head and stared at her court yard. The seconds ticked and ticked away, yet she remined still. Her gaze remained forward, staring at nothing by blackness. The wheels in her head were churning and churning. Her numbness evaporated and a frigid hollowness filled the empty spaces.

Imelda had no inkling of whether the specifics of Ernesto's letter were true. She couldn't conjure an imagine of a pretty little gringa batting her eyes and luring Hector away. The very idea made her squirm and want to burst out of her own skin. Even so, despite her annoyance with him, Imelda had no reason to doubt Ernesto. Maybe she had been too harsh and too cold. Maybe she had made him feel trapped.

Maybe… just maybe… she had finally pushed him away. For years and year Imelda had been told the fire inside of her would burn to hot. And one day when that flame burned to bright it would push away those she cared for. Imelda never wanted to believe them, despite the number of striking eyes and laughable smolders she rejected. She may have been made of flames, but she knew how to control that fire. Even if she had her moments where it raged like a storm, she always knew there was one person who would be unphased by her moods… maybe even charmed.

At least so she thought.

Imelda gripped the folds of her skirt, her almond eyes altering to dark slits. Her thundering heart slowed to a calm, steady rhythm. Her wondering, melancholy focused into a narrow stream of determination.

As she sat, swathed in darkness and righteous fortitude, there were five simple facts glaring her straight into her chocolate orbs.

Fact number one: Hector may or may not have been lured away by some pretty little gringa… though this thought gave her a little twinge of doubt. Whether the mysterious American was true or not Hector had vanished with the wind for one reason or another.

Fact number two: If he had ran off in the early days of December and ceased all contact, she would never his face again.

Fact number three: She didn't want to see him again if he did walk through the door.

Fact number three: She was on her own.

Fact number five: She had to be strong for her daughter. She had to protect her daughter.

And Imelda knew exactly how she would protect her Coco.

The first answer was sitting on her very feet. She had already been tinkering and learning how to make shoes on her own for months and found she had a talent for it. More importantly there wasn't a living soul in town who didn't need a pair of shoes, including her Coco. Her solitary pair of boots were falling apart at the seams. The sole had become so worn and tattered it separated from the rest of the faded boots. Imelda could only imagine having enough money to give Coco the new pair of shoes she so desperately needed. Maybe… just maybe neither her or Coco would have to worry about old, broken shoes ever again.

There was only one other shoe maker in town. He was one of the rare souls who had grown into a wrinkled old age. He was never known for being the kindest or gentlest of souls, but he was a man who appreciated dedication and hard work. The next steps to take were as clear as the ebony sky above. As soon as the sun rose and she had fed her daughter, she would march to his home with her daughter and attempts at boots in hand. She would not leave until he agreed to teach her.

The second answer came far more subtlety. It fluttered like a soft, melancholy tune. The world may have suddenly become far too big for her once more, but it would never be for Coco. She would do everything in her power to keep Coco's world as small and safe as possible. She may have felt as small as a speck of sand but she swore to the heavens she would never let her little girl experience such an awful sensation. That meant buckling down and perfecting the craft of making shoes… but it also meant giving up something that had once brought her such joy;

Music. Imelda's mouth burned with a bitter taste. In deepest heart of hearts she loathed the idea of letting go of music and the brightness it had once brought. Music was what brought her to Hector… yet it was what ultimately took him away. Something that was meant to bring beauty and elation had turned her life upside down and torn it apart. As strange as it sounded, on that cool winters night the very idea music morphed into something far blacker and more sinister. From that moment on it represented nothing but pain, loss and foolish dreams. Imelda vowed she would shield Coco not only from the anguish music brought, but from the man who had once filled their world with song.

At long last the great, sprawling world around Imelda shrunk and turned certain once more. Three new truths appeared before her.

Hector Rivera was forever more dead to her and her family.

Music had torn her family apart.

Shoes would pull her family back together.

Unbeknownst to Imelda, Coco had been startled by the crash coming from her parents' room. She could hear her Mama's feet thundering as she blustered through the house and out of the hacienda. A door slammed, causing Coco to pull her blanket up to her chin and curl into herself. She laid perfectly still in her little bed, blinking in the dark as her weary thoughts became jumbled with fear and confusion.

" _Why was Mama so mad?_ " She asked herself, her eyes growing wide with fear. No child ever likes to see their parent upset, especially when they couldn't even begin to understand why their parent was acting in such a strange manner.

Coco, however, had an inkling of what had caused her Mama to fly into such a rage.

" _Is it because of Papa?_ "

Being only three years old Coco couldn't even begin to grasp the pieces of puzzles in front of her. All her young mind could understand was her Mama was upset… and her Papa had stopped sending letters. She wrapped the blanket tightly around her small frame, pieces of her dark fair falling into her mouth. Her pudgy face scrunched in agitation, her tired thoughts beginning to wake.

Young as she was, Coco was all too aware something was amiss. Children were far more aware of the world around them than adults ever gave them credit for. They may not be able to grasp the finer details or connect the dots, but they were more than capable of understanding when something was wrong. Coco was no exception. Try as hard as she might, Imelda could not completely guard Coco from the drastic turn their lives were about to take. She noticed the little details Imelda appeared completely oblivious to. She noticed how her Mama sang less and less with each passing day. She would catch her staring at the front door, waiting for something or someone that never came. She was all too aware of how little food they had. Her stomach ached with the thought of the nourishment she lacked.

Most importantly of all though, Coco was all too painfully aware her Papa had stopped sending letters.

She had become used to having to wait seemingly endless periods of time for his latest letter or poem. She had become used to the absence of his warm arms, his familiar smell and loving eyes. If nothing else she could pretend he was with her as she sang their special song, beaming as he held her close and swayed her to sleep. As bold and colorful as her imagination was though it would never compare to having her Papa with her. At least she still had his words. Though they may have taken longer than she preferred, her Papa would send letter after letter just for her. Some of them were little poems with little drawings in the margins or corners. Some of them were simple letters regaling her with his adventures. It was his last letter though that stuck in the grooves of her youthful mind. It was one of the shortest letters he had sent and lacked the customary doodles she had become accustomed to. Yet in the months that followed she memorized those words and repeated them as often as her daily prayers;

 _Dear Coco,_

 _I love you with all my heart._

 _Love_

 _Papa._

Those words had first brought her endless joy and happiness-as all of her Papa's letters did. It only took her days to dash to her favorite window and began her eternal wait. She waited for the next letter or maybe even her Papa's long, lanky frame. Eventually that eternity had passed, and Coco still found herself leaning against the window, gazing out into the world with hopeful eyes only a child could possess. As the eternity stretched on longer and longer there was no letter and no Papa. Coco never whined and complained as many other children would. She simply stared longingly out the window and repeated the same two questions:

"When is Papa coming home?"

"How come there are no letters?"

Whenever those questions would escape from her lips Coco would notice how Imelda would change. She noticed how the corners of her Mama's lips would tighten or how the light faded from her eyes before she was pulled into a bear of a hug. Her Mama would gently pull her away from the window, but it was only a temporary solution. Coco was drawn to that window like a moth to a flame. The next moment she could she returned to the ledge and resumed her waiting. The longer she lingered by that open window the longer worry began to sink in her bones. Christmas had come and gone and there was still no sign of either her Papa or a letter.

There was nothing, and Coco noticed the longer there was nothing the more upset her Mama became.

And that, Coco concluded, was why her Mama was so upset she had slammed a door.

Coco kicked the blankets off herself and swung her little legs of the edge of the bed. She landed on the cool floor with a soft thud and made her way out into the hall. Her little feet pattered as she tipped toed to her parent's room. It was a trek she had made many times since moving to her own room. She had never dared entertaining the thought of cracking open that door when her Mama was upset. That February night was different. Her heart ached to wrap her tiny arms around Mama and turn her frown into a smile. She ached for her Mama to hold her tight and make all the confusion and fear disappear.

More than anything else, Coco greatly craved for someone to turn her world right side round once more.

With all the bravery she could muster Coco crept towards the door, ready to step on her pudgy toes and creak open the door. When she reached door though it was already hanging open. She inched closer, gripped the frame and peered in.

"Mama?"

Her little whisper floated into the darkness and disappeared. There was no response, only the quiet of a calm night. Coco held her breathe and put one foot into the room. She froze, waiting for a familiar voice to call out her name. When there was nothing but night, she entered the room.

"Mama" She called once more, her voice louder. Once more she was greeted with blackness. Her head tilted, her mind swarming with confusion. It was only when she had tipped toed to the bed Coco realized when her Mama had not answered her calls. The pillows were still perfectly fluffed and sat gingerly next to each other. The quilt and blankets were untouched, stretched immaculately over the bed. It was then Coco realized her Mama wasn't in the room. Unsure of what else to do she took a tentative step forward. When she set her foot down a smooth, paper like material caused her to pause. Turning her gaze to the floor, she could make out something small and torn peeking through her toes. Curious as most children are, Coco slid her foot back and gingerly picked up the mysterious object.

Coco let a thunderous gasp. Her jaw dropped into a large, round circle. Her eyes grew to the size of the moon.

Smiling up at her was the long, thin and boney face of her Papa. Coco knew that photo very well. It always sat proudly on her Mama's night stand where it could always be seen. Though Imelda had never uttered such a sentiment, Coco knew it was one of the few physical objects her Mama cherished. This caused Coco's almond eyes to scrunch with incredulity. Another piece of this awful puzzle had been placed in front of her… and she had no clue what to make of it. She looked up at the small nightstand and pattered towards it. The moment she laid eyes on its smooth top her puzzled expression was replaced with utter horror.

There was her Mama's favorite picture, freed from its simple wooden frame. It was thrown carelessly on the bedside table. It was faced blank side up, but Coco didn't need to see the faces on the other side to know what damage had been inflicted. The once pristine photo had sustained a large, clumsy and hasty tare. Coco's lips began to tremble, her eyes pooling with warm tears. She didn't need to flip over the picture to know whose face had been ripped away. The evidence was in her tiny, plump fingers.

Coco turned her watery eyes to her Papa's smiling face. She remained a statue as she stared at the photo, her thoughts becoming muddled. Everything was laid bare in front of her; the lack of letters, her Mama's growing fear and misery and now her Papa's smiling face in her hands instead of attached to the family photo. They were scattered in front of her in a jumbled mess for her to put back together. The task seemed insurmountable for the three-year-old. She continued to burrow her watery gaze at the picture, desperately trying to decipher what all these clues meant.

Then, just as if someone had turned on a light in her head everything made sense. She was finally able to connect all the dots at a blazing speed.

There would never be another letter with a sweet poem and little doodles. She would never see his tall figure making its way back home.

Her Papa was never coming home.

The tears pooling in Coco's almond eyes spilled down her full cheeks. The corners of her lips turned into a hard frown as the quivering grew ever more intense. Her little body trembled from head to toe.

"Papa…" She croaked, her voice choked by an oncoming sob. Her plump face was drenched and stained.. Coco hugged the photo to her chest. Every inch of her wished it was her Papa's warm body she was clinging to rather than his lifeless picture. She craved for any warm pair of arms to wrap around her and hold her tightly. She had never felt such a cold grasp of terror or felt so exposed. Coco's eyes darted around the room, searching for her Mama to embrace her. In her distress she had fail to recall there was no other soul in the room. There was nothing but darkness and a torn picture.

Coco's heart began to race. Her shaking became uncontrollable as her breathes were released in panic, strangled huffs. All instinct screamed for her to locate somewhere snug and secure place to hide. There was only one place such a small child could think of. With the photo clutched to her chest Coco sprinted from what had once been a safe haven back into the empty hallway. Tears continued to rain as she sprinted into her room. She pounced on her feather soft bed, gripping her pink blanket in her tiny fist. She pulled it over her head and curled into a small ball. All was silent sans for her muffled sniffles and cried.

Bewildered musings broke through her anguish, franticly attempting to make sense of a world that suddenly appeared cold and incomprehensible. There was only one question that echoed louder than the others.

" _Does Papa not love me anymore?"_

The very notion was alien to the child. She instantly shuddered as the question spun round and round in her hand. How could it be true? Her Papa loved her she knew he did. She could still remember being lifted into his scrawny but strong arms and being twirled around the house. She could still hear his smooth, gentle voice crooning as she drifted away to sleep. More than anything, Coco could easily recall how she felt in his presence. No matter what was occurring around her, she would always feel protected and adored as soon as she saw her Papa's smile.

Was it all a lie? Was it nothing more than a beautiful story, the kind of stories that would begin the process of lulling her to bed?

Coco's sobs ceased as suddenly as the had come. All the tears evaporated from her eyes. Her lips finally ceased their incessant quivering and her trembles vanished. There was nothing but the moonlit night, stillness and her soft breathing. Coco finally pulled her hands away from her chest. She held the picture up to her eyes. Even shrouded in darkness Coco was able to make out innumerable details in the torn piece of the Rivera family photo. She could see the long line of his face and the bump in his rather prominent nose. She could see how the mariachi suit he wore was too large for his thin frame. It was his relaxed grin that shone the most through the blackness. Her little thumb traced his pronounced cheeks with her thumb, just as he would trace her high cheek bones with his thumb.

In that moment, safe under her blankets, eyes burrowing at her Papa's familiar eyes, Coco made a decision. She vowed then and there she would never give into the thoughts roaring in her head. No matter what anyone told her, no matter how life may be telling her otherwise, she would never believe her Papa stopped loving her.

Deep in her aching heart Coco knew that her Papa still loved her. He still loved her and she knew he still loved her Mama. The fact his letters had stopped meant nothing. Where ever he was, she knew he missed her just as much as she missed him. He was out there, singing their secret song to the night sky. Because even at the tender age of three, Coco knew something Imelda could not admit. Something did not add up. Her Papa would never forsake them, not when it was in his own power.

Coco wriggled her head out from her cocoon, sucking in a deep breath of crisp winter air. She sat on her knees and reached over to a little table beside her bed. Resting gingerly on top of it was a thin piece of paper, crinkled from months of little hands gripping it. She grabbed it and brought it inches away from her face. The messy, loopy penmanship meant nothing to Coco. She could barely read in the best conditions. Yet she knew exactly what those words were and could repeat them-and that is precisely what she did. After taking a few lengthy moments to stare at the scrawl she stowed it under the pillow with the photo. She snuggled into the mattress, burrowed her face into the pillow and slid her hand under the pillow. Her palm rested on top of the letter and photo. As she closed her eyes her Papa's letter echoed in her head, drawing her back to a dreamless sleep.

 _Dear Coco,_

 _I love you with all my heart._

 _Love_

 _Papa._


End file.
